Once In a Lifetime
by Southpaw92
Summary: She was lost to their world, then he fell into hers. Now she will have to fight to save his world and the one she once knew, and then maybe for what she truly loves. EomerOC...Rated for some language and later violence
1. I Can't Get Over You

Disclaimer: I own very little, only Merides at this point. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

This is mainly movie-verse, but some of it may be slightly book-verse because of internet resources and my referring to the appendices for info. If anyone would love to beta to make sure I don't screw something up, feel free to contact me. Any mistakes, grammatical and factual, are mine, but grammatically I place the blame on Microsoft Word.

Edit 6/22/12: I am editing chapters to remove song lyrics since supposedly stories not following guidelines are being taken down. I was providing credit/not taking credit for the songs, but better safe than sorry.

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Chapter One: _I Can't Get Over You_

"Ha-ha, you'll never catch me, Éomer!"

Théodwyn looked up from her sewing to watch Merides, the daughter of a close friend of Éomund, maze her way through tables and columns. The ten year-old was soon followed by the elder Éomer, his shaggy golden hair attempting to blind him from his quarry. Éowyn, the youngest of the three, appeared a moment later. She rarely kept up with the older duo, but found more fun in simply watching their antics.

"You're too quick to make conclusions," Éomer told her, trapping her to one side of the dying fire.

She stuck her tongue out at him defiantly and glared at Éowyn, who had wordlessly sided with her brother. "At least I don't need the help of my sister." That had really gotten him— his playful look turned into fierce determination.

Two pairs of deep brown eyes locked, Merides's flashing to the ground and revealing her plans. Éomer knew the steps all too well— he had taught her the exact same steps in swordplay. His feet responded her hesitant movements, keeping her confined to one side of the hall. There was a sudden crash of thunder, the sound reverberating and rumbling the floor noticeably. The boom startled nearly everyone in the hall, even a few of hardened guards. Éomer, not in the least shaken, took the moment to run and tackle Merides to the hard stone floor.

She squealed loudly, her sandy blonde waves unsuccessfully stifling the noise as she fell. Éowyn giggled, never knowing her as one to squeal. The squeal was just as loud as the thunder, if not more.

"Ow! Éomer, you're the size of a horse! Get off!" She squirmed underneath him, not daring to even glance at his triumphant face. She always slipped past him within moments, as she was swifter and lighter on her feet than he ever was. Today something was off, and she hated it with a passion.

"Say it," he commanded. He wanted an official declaration of surrender to prove he was better than she.

"Éomer, please let Merides get up," Théodwyn intervened verbally. Her hand barely paused in her stitching as she reduced the rowdiness. She was more loving than stern, but they knew to listen to her.

He bounced to his feet then pulled the infuriated girl up. "Say-"

The boy was interrupted as someone pushed open the large doors. The ferocious storm blew in behind the figure, sheets of rain trying to reach anyone in the doorway. The guards, those both stationed inside and out, leapt to fight the doors closed against the howling wind. By the little light from outdoors and the small fire, they could now tell that it was a Rider. Much of his armor and body were covered in mud, and his hair was tangled and matted from days of riding and lack of washing.

Théodwyn leapt to her feet, her sewing thudding softly to the ground before the svelte woman forgotten. She recognized him unhesitatingly as one of Éomund's men, and worry clouded her light azure eyes. "Háma, what has happened? Where are the others?"

Éowyn and Merides were an almost famous duo who greeted the men with hugs and an interrogation of their travels outside of the city, questioning their fathers the most. Now, however, they remained in their places, an unpleasant force telling them to stay put. The bright smile on Éowyn's face faded as her eyes swept over his disheveled appearance, and Merides's angry look gave way to one of question, brows furrowing. Éomer's hand tightened around hers instantly.

The dark-haired man looked up at her tiredly and straightened his composure. "My lady, is there somewhere we may talk privately?" His voice, which they all knew to be strong and deep, was unsteady.

Three blonde heads swiveled around to look at her, wondering whether they would be allowed listen. Théodwyn looked at them anxiously. "Éomer, why don't you, take Éowyn and Merides to find out what we will eat this evening?"

Éomer and Merides glanced at each other, seeing through the rouse. The worry about their fathers was evident in their eyes. If Háma had returned alone and no wounded were brought back, only the inevitable was left. The thought scared them, though death was not something they were unaware of.

Silently and obediently, they headed towards the hallway. He grabbed his friend's elbow just as they passed the doorway, halting her. She opened her mouth to voice her protest, but he placed a hand over it to quiet her. She raised one eyebrow as he pulled her back towards where they had just come from. Éowyn looked at them curiously for a moment, and then paused a few feet beyond them. The two friends slowly poked their heads around to listen in better.

"Éomer, you're standing on my foot," she whispered, glancing up at him. She caught the roll of his eyes as he moved, but decided she would repay him later.

"Where is Éomund? Where is my husband?" She asked, her own voice quaking. She stayed rooted to her place, fear taking over.

He lowered his head, looking at the bundle in his arms for a moment, and then sighed. "He fell, my lady. We were ambushed by orcs."

Théodwyn fell back onto the bench, her hands moving to cover her face. Salty tears slid between her slender fingers and down her cheeks. Her quiet sobs echoed in the hall, the sound heart-wrenching. Háma lowered his head in reverence, finding her tears stabbing at his emotions. Éomer dashed past Merides, running to his mother's side. Éowyn was right on his heels, and hugged her mother as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Their mother pulled her children closer, as to protect them from what had taken her husband.

Merides tentatively stepped from the shadows, unsure of what laid before her. If Éomund had fallen, her father, the Marshal of the Mark's first-in-command and lifelong friend, had certainly gone down with him. Her future at Aldburg was now cloudy, as her only other family was in Helm's Deep. Her mother had also been killed by orcs as she was returning from visiting her parents in the city. She was only a small child when her mother died, and barely remembered her. However, she did remember how much her mother, Elwen, loved the older buildings and surrounding country and wanted her daughter to live there. Now it seemed that her days were numbered. Leaving the only home she had ever known was worse than death itself to the blonde. She held her head high, determined not to cry— her father had taught her that tears were a sign of weakness.

Háma glanced up at the young girl, and then lifted his head when he realized who it was.

She approached the tall Rider silently, emotions swirling in her big dark eyes. "What happened to my father? Did he," she gulped to keep the impending tears down, "did he fall?"

More sorrow overcame his features, if it was even possible at this point. "Aye, Merides. I fell behind when I stopped to care for my horse. Your father fought until I arrived there. He bid me give you these."

She stumbled back subtly as he placed the large bundle of cloth in her arms. She studied it for a moment then looked at her Rider friend quizzically.

"He told me that he loves you and that his strength may pass to you."

Merides turned slowly on her heel and strode briskly to the hallway. The Rider called after her, but she ignored him along with everyone else who was near. Éomer watched her disappear through the doorway, curious about her trance-like state. He had no idea how his friend would react to something so enduring. She was strong, just as strong as him, but losing the only other person in her immediate family might have sent her over the edge. He extracted himself from his mother's grasp and followed after his friend, leaving Théodwyn to cling to his sister.

"Merides? It's going to be okay, we can get through this," he spoke quietly to the slightly ajar door of her temporary residence. "Mer?"

Nothing but the pounding of the rain outside was audible. He pushed open the door hesitantly, expecting the worst.

Her room was mostly bare, a few trinkets that adorned the guest rooms decorating the tabletops. The large bed was hastily made, one corner of the twilight blue blanket hovering just above the floor. A few of her clothes were tossed across the bed, one of her few dresses balled up at the foot of the bed in an obvious attempt to hide the offensive garment. Rain was pouring through the open window on the other side of the room, drenching the floor with the clear liquid. Merides never opened windows when it was raining because she was out playing in it until she was forced inside.

Éomer looked around for a moment, waiting for her to make a noise, move, or just appear. After nothing happened, he crossed the room to the window and popped his head out. His lively friend was nowhere to be seen. He called her name, but was only graced with rain. He hung his head in defeat as he closed the sorrowfully window. His father was gone, Merides was gone, and the perfect life he did have was coming unraveled at a pace too quick for him to keep up.

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Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

A quick little Want Ad: Beta willing to put up with pessimistic, somewhat crazy author. Knowledge of Rohan and of horses (both those of reality and Middle-Earth) is considered of great importance. Must be able to deal with curse words, such as the f-word. Also, it would be nice to know something about the applicant (does not have to be really personal, just a little fact). Anything else you believe is important is welcome.


	2. Blow My Mind

Disclaimer: I own very little, just the OC's. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate. Gabrielle is the 'G' name for this year's hurricane name list, but did not actually come across Florida (and it wasn't a hurricane, only a tropical storm. According to Weather-dot-com's map, it hit some of North Carolina, but nothing else.)

I am not saying anything because I know I will open my metaphorical big mouth and spoil something. This one's a bit long since I couldn't find any way to shorten some of it, but I worked hard to get what I had in good shape. **And be warned, there is some cursing, including one use of the f-word. **Now, with that out of the way…

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Chapter Two: _Blow My Mind_

Charlie yawned audibly as she rolled over to look at the clock. The ancient timepiece read seven thirty sharp, surprisingly early for the night owl. A flash of lightning flickered across the floor, followed almost instantly by a deep roll of thunder. A huge system, a tropical storm just hanging onto its status, was cutting across the peninsula at a brisk pace. Gabrielle had seemed to set her sights on the Central Florida ranch, but by now she had been seriously weakened by the lower half of the state. Charlie had long since grown used to the storms, as life always continued despite the size. Charlie sat up and leaned on her hands, eyeing the bloodhound stretched across her legs.

"Duke, please move," she told him, shifting her legs.

The dog lifted its head and blinked at her, then leapt smoothly from the bed. He wasted no time in galloping from the room to investigate downstairs.

"Crazy dog," she muttered and slid out of bed. "It looks like my run is canceled." The road that led to the house was the one she always ran, but it usually flooded over with large amounts of rain and kept her from easily jogging it. One quick look out of the window told her that her prediction was correct— the visible road was flooded over, no doubt pouring into the swamps just out of her sight. With a sigh, she changed out of her pajamas to a pair of light blue flared jeans and a plain black shirt. She reached for her old plain leather belt and succeeded in getting it through half of the belt-loops when the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"This is boss-man Morgan, trying to reach Alpha Charlie. Come in, Alpha Charlie." She was only an alpha because she never went by her given name, Charlotte, and the fact that there was another Charlie who worked on the ranch.

She sighed heavily, expecting a moderately calm day. The men were never expected to work during a storm, only before and after. But Morgan had a sixth sense for horrendous thunderstorms, and hated to leave the cattle and horses without supervision during them. She reached for the radio in its charger, subsequently knocking over a few bottles of soap and lotion to get to it. "This is Alpha Charlie. What's up, Morgan?"

There was an audible sigh of distress, but could have easily been mistaken for the wind. "We have a bit of a situation down here. I would tell you, but you may want to see this for yourself."

"Morg, is something wrong?" She wrestled on the rest of the belt and fastened it. She reached warily for her scuffed cowboy boots, wondering whether they were going to be necessary.

The radio now changed hands to the second-in-command without warning. "Charlie, it's Steve. I think the faster you get here, the better."

God, they were so cryptic sometimes. "Okay, I'm on my way." She hooked the radio on her belt and dashed from the room, boots in hand.

Duke watched the tall blonde thunder down the stairs and throw open the front door. Intrigued by her new-found morning person side, he trotted after her. He narrowly missed losing the end of his tail by the oblivious, absent-minded 27-year-old.

"Aw shit, you're kidding." Charlie skidded to a halt at the edge of the porch, the waves of hair that fell to her elbows forming a curtain in an attempt to blind her. She ran a hand through some of it, mind racing. She took the momentary pause to wrestle her boots on.

There were numerous methods of transportation on the Manning farm, but today, of all days, they were limited. The racing bikes were coated in dirt from a race the night before, the caked mess now turning to mud with the downpour. The four-wheelers were hitched to trailers to pull equipment and hay elsewhere. God only knew what kind of havoc she would wreak with one of them and a heavy load. Her pick-up had a flat tire from the day before that she had completely forgotten to fix, and changing the tire on the massive Ford was a job made for two people. And she would rather run than use the old Porsche her late adoptive father had bought ages ago— it was his baby that had become hers. But with the Manning's, when there was a will, there was a way.

She leapt off of the porch and stumbled her way across the muddy square to the barn. She pushed the wooden doors open wide and watched the minimal sunlight spill into the barn. "Bridget! Rise and shine amiga! The boys need us!"

The chestnut head of a horse appeared from one of the stalls, bright sky blue eyes blinking back at the woman. Charlie walked briskly to the stall and opened it, allowing the young Appaloosa to trot out. "C'mon baby girl." The mare followed her towards the door, pausing when she went in search of riding equipment.

After blindly saddling Bridget (though she had saddled horses most of her life), she hooked one boot in the worn stirrup and pulled herself up on the horse. Duke stared at her with sad puppy eyes, trying to persuade her from leaving.

"I'll be back soon, Duke. Bridge, let's go!" She urged the horse into the rain.

Bridget quickly reached a full gallop as she swerved onto the road leading into the fields. She kicked the loose, watery mud into the air, landing on the baseball-sized white spots of her flanks and splattering all over Charlie's back. Neither horse nor rider paid it any mind, focused more on arriving there safely. It occurred to Charlie, after reaching the forest of monstrous leafy palmettos and giant live oaks decorated in thick Spanish moss lining the road, that she did not even know her destination. She held onto the reins with one hand and swiftly pulled her radio from her belt.

"This is Alpha Charlie, trying to reach Morgan. Morg, are you there?"

There was a slight pause. "Morgan here. Are you wondering where we are?"

"It would be nice to know, over."

"We're at the southwest corner of the northeast field, right off the road, over."

"Thanks. Alpha Charlie's over and out." She fumbled to replace the radio on her belt.

Bridget kicked harder into the less watery dirt, finding more traction in the shaded parts of the road. The Appaloosa was just like her owner in her love for the rain and both were used to going out in it, her confident step giving them speed. She could always sense Charlie's emotion easily and now picked up on her anxiety. It was an odd sensation for her because the woman was rarely so anxious. The rider dug her heels in more than she normally did and kept the reins tight in her grip. The rain blew down upon the duo, coming down in barely visible sheets. Charlie was now thoroughly drenched to her boots and her hair was glued to her face and shirt, but she barely paid it any mind.

Within just a few minutes, a small gathering of the old farm trucks came close. Bridget slowed her gallop ever so slightly, feeling Charlie relax. They reached the vehicles where she skidded to a stop in the mud. The rider dismounted in a puddle, which she glared at upon landing in. She shook her head and looked at the men, who were staring back at her.

"Where's Morgan?" She inquired of one.

He nodded in the direction of the shoulder of the road, where a number of men were gathered. They parted like a sea at her footfalls to allow her through to two men on the ground.

Charlie slid down the steep part of the shoulder to the level piece of ground. "Morg, what the hell's going on?"

Morgan, an elder man who was wiry but strong as an ox, looked up at her with surprised green eyes. "I noticed a horse in the brush and found him. As to what's actually going on, God only knows."

She knelt beside the supervisor and gently rolled over the unconscious man. "Oh my God," she breathed.

The man was dressed almost medieval, yet seemed more refined. A beautifully detailed piece of hard armor covered his chest, its color a deep crimson with spirals of silver and a circle in the middle of the armor with small, barely noticeable spirals inlaid. Beneath it was an expanse layer of chain mail, going past his elbows and extending beyond his knees. Another layer of chain, its pattern reminding her of snake scales, was beneath the previous layer and falling even further past his knees. There was armor that matched the chest piece on his forearms and calves, protecting the thin leather gloves and boots. A helm of smooth silver and a crest of white horse-like hair adorned his head, concealing most of his facial features.

It was certain to say that he was most definitely _not_ from the Sunshine State— or from the 21st century, for that matter.

"I didn't touch him 'cause I didn't know quite what to do with him," Morgan explained. "Ain't he from some movie?"

"Yeah, I think." To tell the truth, she would remember the face of anyone so fascinating such as Éomer's. Of course, she and her best friend Endi watched the movie about every two months, so she had long since picked up on many aspects of each character. She reached to his exposed neck and felt for a pulse. "He's still alive, but his pulse is slightly weak—"

"Probably 'cause he's unconscious," Morgan interjected.

"I need to get him back to the house."

He helped her pull the strongly-built man up and supported him by wrapping one limp arm around his shoulders. "Which truck are we taking?"

"The road's got a load of potholes forming. We don't need a concussion to go with this. Help me get him on Bridget."

He eyed the sandy-haired woman suspiciously. "Ain't we going to take him to the hospital?"

She stopped her literal uphill battle and looked at him seriously. "No. If he is who he really is, AKA a fictional character, we become the center of a fucking media circus. That triple homicide last year was bad enough of a spotlight, and I only got interrogated by news people asking me about people I barely even knew. This is a damn farm secret. No one even dare breathe a word in town!" She eyed the others, big chocolate eyes pent with determination.

A few others helped them get back onto the road with little hassle. Morgan succeeded in keeping the man on his feet as Charlie mounted her horse. The men helped once again to get him seated in front of her.

"Char, what about his horse?"

She wrapped one arm around him to keep him upright, and then looked over at the smoky gray stallion. She pursed her lips subtly at the questionable saddle and bridle. "Give me the reins. I'll take him back in with me."

The horse was led to her and she quickly devised a way to handle it all. "Guys, say nothing of this to anyone— wives, sisters, girlfriends, _no one_. ¿Comprende?"

Everyone nodded silently, having never seen such an inexplicable side of the ranch owner.

Charlie dug in her heels and they took off at a well-paced gallop. The man's horse kept up extremely well, but seemed confused by the entire situation. The road stretched on forever as the man became heavier.

"Damn it, come on, Bridge," she muttered. The man's head fell back on her shoulder. She now got her first glimpse of him: he had well-defined features, a sharply rounded nose, and slightly unkempt whiskers. Something about him brought on a sense of remembering something from ages ago. She promptly shook her head to shatter the odd feeling.

The house sprung up before them and she breathed a sigh of relief. Bridget was directed towards the front porch, slowing to a canter then a trot. She was reined in next to the steps, where Charlie slid off and pulled down the unconscious person. She yelped when his full weight came down on her, heavier than she expected. She hooked her arms under his shoulders and laid him to rest on the porch.

"Okay amigo, you're way too heavy. And you ain't bringing any mud in my house." She knelt beside him and gently pulled the helm off before loosening the ties of the hard armor. She tentatively removed the detailed pieces from his chest and limbs, setting them aside. She now faced the task of getting the chain mail off without hurting him, which looked easier said than done. She slid the mail slowly up his clothed body at a snail's pace and, with a few well-planned maneuvers, removed it quicker than planned. With lightning fast hands, she pulled off the scaly-looking mail and placed it with the rest of his armor.

"A'ight bud, let's go," she muttered as she hauled him up. He was significantly lighter and she felt that she could almost carry him. Charlie got through the front door without problem, and took a sharp left into the living room. She lightly laid him down on the couch and adjusted the pillow under his head. After making him comfortable, she left the room to return momentarily with a damp cloth. She perched on the edge of the couch and began to gently wipe the dirt from his face.

His rugged hand slowly curled into a fist, then relaxed. He reached for her moving arm, weakly grabbing her wrist. She jumped slightly at the touch, believing him unconscious.

"Merides," he whispered. Éomer would have recognized those soulful brown eyes anywhere, and Merides was the only person he had ever met that had a small round mole on her neck, no bigger than a droplet of water. His eyes flickered open just enough to see her.

"Hey, my name's Charlie. Can you tell me your name?" She stopped her hand on the side of his face, reaching over with the other hand to rest on his comfortingly.

"Éomer," he answered quietly. He was exhausted from whatever he had endured and confused beyond belief. This "Charlie" looked exactly like what Merides would have looked like. He had only seen one picture of Merides's mother, a simple sketch by his dear friend's father, but Charlie had many of Elwen's unmistakable features, those that Merides would have undoubtedly inherited. She had a slightly square-shaped jaw, a rounded nose, and a similar hair color to what Elwen's was described as. There was no possibility it could be her, as no ten-year-old could survive Rohan's wild, especially with the orcs about— and certainly not for seventeen years. Her father's resilience and mother's stubbornness would have only bought her a few days at best.

"Éomer, why don't you rest?" Her now-soft voice broke through his swirling thoughts as she moved his hand onto his chest.

He acted as though he would respond, but slipped back into unconsciousness. She studied his face for a moment, then walked calmly back to the kitchen. She tossed the cloth in the sink and leaned on the counter.

_Merides,_ she thought, _it sounds unbelievably familiar. But I don't remember anyone by that name in the movies or books. Of course, I read the books ages ago._ Charlie tapped her fingers, nearly shrieking at the clang of two metal objects. She looked at the silver ring of a galloping horse confined in a rectangular outline from the rest of the band, one of few things from whatever former life she had. Then it hit her like a rock, playing in her head like a movie clip:

_There were two blonde children running, a boy chasing a girl. The hall reminded her of the Golden Hall of Meduseld, but this one was smaller, less regal. There was a homely feel to it, with a motherly figure working on her sewing nearby. The children stopped running, the boy having trapped his prey on one side of the fire. Another girl, obviously younger by her size, stood behind the boy and pretended to be tough. The ghost Charlie— it was her, but no one in the hall could see her— gasped when she saw the first girl's young face— it was a mirror image of herself when she first came to the Manning farm._

_Ghost Charlie stepped backwards from the small movement she had made forward. She backed into a column and plastered herself to it. There was no way in hell she could deny that the girl was her. The young girl's voice had the same light British accent that Charlie had in the old home movies. Now she wondered a few things: why she was there, what she was doing there, and how she was going to get out. But in the meantime, she decided to do a little investigating._

_Figuring that she could do no harm in this state and having recovered from her first shock, she stepped closer to the boy, wondering what his importance was to this apparent vision. She leaned down to his level and studied his features critically, feeling a bit like Jack Sparrow when he was surveying his new crew. His masculine features and deep brown eyes were identical to those of the unconscious Éomer. Her hand covered her mouth in surprise as she stood back up._

_An unseen force pulled her towards one side of the hall and nearly threw her into one wall, bringing her to face an array of standards, all decorated with horses. Clearly whatever it had to prove with the children had been recognized and now it had something new to show her._

"_You didn't have to push so damn hard," she muttered to no one in particular, collecting herself and studying the standards._

_They all varied in their designs, but had the galloping horse in common. Her ring matched one of the standards exactly. Just as she brought her care-worn hand up to look for any difference to prove anything she could, she was yanked upwards and back to her place at the sink._

Charlie whipped around to look towards the living room. If he was him and she was her, did that mean she was from Middle Earth?

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Insert _dun-dun-dun _here.

And gracias to my beta Megan, for fixing something that is going to remain secret for now. Y'all just have to wait until next time to find anything out.


	3. What Do Ya Think About That

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, nothing more. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

Any little mistakes belong to me after I did my review before posting. Don't blame my beta. _(Thanks Meg!)_ Thanks for the reviews to those that did.

They say third time's the charm…

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Chapter Three: _What Do Ya Think About That_

Charlie tore out of the house as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels. She snatched up Bridget's reins, and, in the same moment, began pulling her towards the immense red barn. Éomer's horse hesitantly followed, snorting at the humidifying air. The young woman eyed the sky questioningly. The rain had stopped in the few minutes she had been inside, having soaked everything. The sky was still a deep shade of gray, but now splotches of blue were breaking through. This was the opposite of what she had learned of Florida weather: mornings were always beautiful followed by unpredictable afternoons. Perhaps, she realized, it had something to do with _him_.

She flipped on the lights as she trudged in. Not bothering to wait for them to flicker to life, she removed Bridget's bridle and saddle and returned them to their proper places. She halted as she approached his horse, who was giving her a skeptical look. She stepped lightly towards the handsome stallion, quickly studying his well-defined features and muscles. The woman offered her hand for him to sniff once she came close to him. He sniffed speculatively, and then nibbled at them.

"It's nice to meet you, too." She smiled and gently stroked his muzzle. The vision-like dream hit her again, just as fierce as the last one.

_Ghost Charlie was now in a dark barn, the strong odor of hay and leather telling that her that it was exclusively used for horses. The door far from where she was standing creaked then was slowly opened. The moonlight poured in, the last edges of it just reaching the toes of her boots. She stepped back nervously, not appreciating the fact that she could see through her boots and bones to the flattened hay on the floor. She returned her attention back to the two children who had entered._

_The first entrant was carrying something in one hand, heavy by the way he or she held their arm. Another person entered immediately behind the person, their shadow cast almost as far as the first. The second held the door open while the first fumbled around with something._

"_Éomer, it's the middle of the night. Can't we come in here in the morning?" The child-like female voice seemed to come from the second person, who pulled their cloak tighter around their small form and shivered._

_It was them, yet again. Charlie strained to make out their features to figure out ages. The first person succeeded in lighting a match, which he used to light the candlestick in his hand. She could now verify that it was Éomer and Merides, not much younger than last time, and stepped closer to them to listen in._

"_Father told me not to bother the foal until tomorrow, which, by the moon, is today." His eyes sparkled in the dim candlelight as he looked at her. "Merides, trust me. You'll never forget this."_

_Merides sighed and closed the door to reduce their chance of being caught by the telling light. She shook her tangled waves to defog her head from sleep. A number of the stable's residents poked their heads out to discover who was disturbing their sleep. A few whinnied and snorted at them in greeting, some returning to the interior of their stalls._

_Éomer walked past a few of the stalls and stopped at one. "Mer, look."_

_His friend followed after him and looked into the stall with a tired expression. Her sleepy eyes immediately lit up. "He's beautiful."_

_Charlie strode after them and hovered over them. A doe-eyed foal looked up at the children quizzically. Its coat, by the flickering light, was a stormy gray with spots of snow white just visible._

"_Father says he will be mine when we're both old enough," he informed her almost boastfully._

_She yawned. "That's going to be amazing. Can we return to bed now?"_

_Ghost Charlie was yanked unceremoniously towards the ceiling, facing a blinding white light before finding herself back in her own barn._

Charlie studied the stallion's features with a more critical eye, vaguely remembering each spot. It felt as if she was dusting off some old part of her memories, those she never knew she had. She shook it off like she did the earlier emotions and removed the horse's gear. Bridget had since wandered back to her own stall, not appreciative of the early morning sprints. The mare was watching them intently however, clearly suspicious of the newcomer. The young woman led his horse to a nearby stall and settled him in quickly. She headed for the door, picked up the Éomer's belongings in one swift motion, and continued on towards the house.

Not feeling particularly inquisitive, she dropped his items with his armor. She kicked off her muddy boots and rolled up her jeans, not wanting to track in more dirt to clean later. She continued back inside, realizing she never checked him for any external injuries.

"Fuck," she muttered, "this is not my day." She had been planning to sleep in, then watch a movie while she worked on the monthly finances, and spend the afternoon cleaning the barn. This little escapade had thrown everything out the window, taking anything she believed about her past with it. Of course, she was hanging onto some of it with her adamant denial.

Charlie perched on the couch again and hesitantly lifted his shirt. She lightly ran her fingers across the firm muscle up to his ribs; firmly enough to make sure nothing was marred. Her thumbs outlined the barely discernible bones, checking for any bruises or breaks on them. Not finding any trauma, she smoothed the fabric back down.

"You better have one hell of a reason to be here, amigo," she told him quietly. With that, she headed upstairs for a hot shower to warm up and think it all over.

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Éomer awoke with a start, feeling that he had most certainly overslept. He and his men had halted their search for Théodred and his group because the storm was making the horses increasingly uncooperative. He had only meant for them to stop for a few hours to wait out the worst of the storm, but it felt like more than a few. And instead of waking to see the inside of a hastily made tent, he saw a flat white ceiling, if that was what one could call it. It looked like a wall placed upon the roof, left undecorated. He sat up and looked around, speechless and almost thoughtless to his surroundings. A slight movement drew his attention to a young woman curled up in a large, plush chair across from him. He vaguely remembered speaking to her, and that she had said her name was Charlie. But surely he was mistaken and heard her wrong, for no woman he had ever encountered had the name of a man.

He timidly sat up and swung his feet to the floor. The sofa creaked with his movements and her eyes snapped open at the sound. Their eyes locked, waiting for the other to speak first.

"Wh- where am I?" He finally asked. His throat ached from the lack of water and caused his voice to crack.

She sat up, sliding her feet from the armrest to the wood floor. One eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly in suspicion. "You're in Florida, more specifically outside of Vero Beach."

His eyes flickered across the room again before falling back on her. "Tell me, Miss Charlie, where is this Flor-duh on a map?"

The corners of her lips twitched upwards into a smile. "We are the southernmost state of the US." She received a blank stare, telling her that he was most definitely from Middle Earth. Well, she did try. "The northern hemisphere of Earth?"

His brows knitted in confusion. "I am not in Middle Earth?"

She saw that telling flicker in his eyes. _Just keep him inside and calm,_ she thought. "Uh, sorry, we're not. We—"

Éomer spotted the door and bolted for it. There was a chance that she was with the enemy (she had been thought dead for nearly two decades, after all), and the faster he escaped, the better. He leapt deftly over the table, the sight fully waking Charlie. She rushed after him, but stopped when he reached the door. She had locked it for a moment like this, and the lock was holding its ground despite the yanking. When the door frame itself seemed to give, she intervened.

"Éomer, what in the hell are you doing? Calm down, I can explain everything." She latched onto his arms in a futile attempt to stop him.

"You have been dead for seventeen years! This is clearly Saruman's work!" He continued to attack the door, but then his eyes fell on her ring. He promptly stopped and froze in place. She was nothing like Grima was, preaching how much the wizard was an ally, and did not appear deceitful like the king's advisor. Of course, that should have been his first clue, but he wanted to escape from a possible trap.

Charlie also froze, wondering how he knew the importance of seventeen, which was the number of years she had been a Manning on the ranch. But the "you've been dead" part confused her even more. "D-dead? What are you talking about?"

"This ring— where did you get it?" He pried her right hand from his arm and examined the ring on her index finger. He vividly remembered Beorn, Merides's father, lifting and spinning her around after returning from their travels. The same ring sparkled on Beorn's finger, spattered with orc blood.

"I don't know I've had it since I was ten. Why?"

"How old are you?" He questioned.

"I hardly think— 27, alright? What's it to ya?" Charlie yanked her hand from his grip and glared at him. She was going to deny this until the evidence proving otherwise was too hard to go against.

"My close friend Merides disappeared seventeen years ago," he told her quietly.

Oh no, not _that_ name. She rolled her eyes and sighed to mask the anxiety. She was hell-bent on denying everything to do with the possibility of her being that name. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't see what I have to do with this."

"She was ten when she disappeared. You look exactly like her. And that ring, it belonged to her father." He nodded at the one hand that she had on her hip.

Emotions coursed through her vicious look. Denial was becoming increasingly harder. "I refuse to believe this." She then turned on heel and sprinted up the stairs. A door slammed soon after.

This was hardly the girl he remembered. Merides was sweet, joking, and easygoing. Charlie may have been sweet, but she was fiery and adamant about her feelings— of course, Merides had always been the latter. Éomer realized that he may have been too quick to tell Charlie of her true past and had frightened her as a result. He had some wrongs to right, because if he did not, there was a chance he would be stuck in this Earth forever.

* * *

Is everyone happy our Marshal is awake? I sure am, but Charlie would disagree. More insanity will ensue next chapter…

Reviews greatly appreciated, by the way.


	4. Letter

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

Charlie's going a little loopy, if her storming to her room didn't foreshadow anything.

* * *

Chapter Four: _Letter_

Charlie stared out the window, watching absently as the sawgrass and mangroves swayed in the distance from her bedroom. Her attention laid with her thoughts, racing around her head like the drivers in a NASCAR race. She shifted her folded arms on the windowsill, resting her chin in a crook between them. A sigh escaped her as the wind whipped through the screen. A mid-afternoon sun was bathing the ranch in a beautiful light, making everything shimmer from the rain. She noted this, but it was soon overtaken by thoughts of the supposedly fictional guest.

Steps echoed up the stairs and stopped at her door, the vibrations in the floor giving the person away. Perhaps that was why she had never invested in new floors: the old oak timbers gave away anyone or anything of fair size. The person came to her door; the only closed one, and knocked softly a moment later.

"What the hell do you want?" She snapped, turning to glare at the door. Clearly, she had not made it obvious to him that she disliked this whole "you're from another world" idea and wanted to be left to her thoughts that told her she was from the world she knew.

"I have come to apologize. I did not mean to scare you." Éomer felt odd to be talking to a door, but brushed the feeling off. He needed for her to trust him so he could find a way out of here, even if that meant doing something he rarely did. He did not bother to question her language, not needing nor wanting more turmoil.

"Scare me? Ha! Are you trying to insult me? Charlie Manning doesn't get scared!" If she was not ticked off before, she was now.

He gulped and said, "That is what Merides always told me when she would be frightened."

She leapt to her feet and walked to the dresser. Her shirt was equally annoying to the Marshal outside her door. "What is with you? I ain't her, for God's sake! Why do you keeping thinking that?" She yanked a tank top from a drawer and proceeded to change. A yellowed envelope went unnoticed as it dropped to her feet, landing with the slightest whisper on the rug.

Now she was stirring up Éomer. "And why do you doubt that you are her? You have a symbol of Rohan upon your very hand. You have many features that are common to the people of the Mark! And of your parents…"

She opened her mouth to interrogate him about what he knew of her parents, but stopped. It was a trap, a well-planned one, but not clever enough to fool her. She spotted the envelope on the floor as she closed the drawer and picked it up tentatively. Opening it with her nail, she retorted, "Well, if I am her, why don't I remember anything?"

That silenced him. Heavy, agitated breathing was heard from the hall for a moment until he calmed down.

With a triumphant smirk, she removed the musty paper from its home and unfolded it. The words came over her like an unwanted cold shower:

_Dear Char,_

_I don't know when you may be reading this, or if I am dead or alive. But that is beside the point anyways. I know how much you love to sit in the attic and sift through the old family heirlooms and junk that has been deemed sentimental for no apparent reason. One box in particular worries me the most when you come over it, and I hope you have read this before you have found it. It is the unlabeled cardboard box beneath a small but heavy purple bin of ceramics, if you want to look. But please read this before you go running from the house._

_When you first came to us, you were stumbling down the very road you love to run. You muttered something about "Merides" and "Rohan" before passing out into my arms. I guessed the first was your name (something I did a little research to find the proper spelling for), but was suspicious of the latter, since Rohan was fictional (you know well of my love for Tolkien's works). When you finally woke, you had no recollection of anything from your past, not even your name. We did not tell you of what you had said because we were not sure how you would react. We chose the name Charlotte for my mother, who was just as strong and free as you (of course, you have proven you are more of those than she was), and so you would fit a little better in our family._

_The box contains what you were carrying when you came. I hope you will remember whatever you forgot that day, perhaps your entire past. I never told you of this because I knew you would deny anything that was not sensible to you. I know you, Char, and you deny until there's too much against you. I hope you can recall something that fills some of that void I see in you._

_With love,_

_Mom_

Charlie gulped and let the letter float to the unmade bed. Everything had taken a vicious tailspin in a matter of hours and she was beginning to feel the effects of fighting it. Her emotions, all negative, had kicked into fifth gear and were content to stay there. She had half a mind to grab the keys to the Porsche and go for a ride to the beach, but that would accomplish nothing in the long run. She knew that answers lied in that box in the barn.

He had continued his tirade through the door, but she had stopped listening for awhile. Their fight was no more than a yelling match of wits and denial, and she saw no purpose in prolonging the war. The woman sent the door a look of mixed emotions and headed for the window. Quietly, she popped the screen from its place and allowed it to slide down the roof. Éomer maintained his tone, an obvious sign that he heard nothing. She hesitantly stepped onto the shingles and disappeared a moment later.

"Charlie, will you open this door so we may talk?" Éomer concluded his speech. Not even the slightest sign answered him, not a footstep or breath. "Miss Charlie?"

His hand gripped the doorknob and slowly turned it, waiting for her to yell or make and equally loud sound. Instead, he found the room empty. A letter fluttered on the messy bed and his loose shirt rippled against his side, alerting him to the open window. He rushed to it and leaned out in time to see someone disappear into a large red building some distance from him. He groaned, remembering the front door was locked in a curious manner, and proceeded to scramble out the window.

The sun may have been fighting its way out, but nothing had succeeded in drying. His feet slid out from beneath him as soon as he stepped out. He recovered in time to grab the edge of the roof and felt grateful for his quick reflexes. He dropped the last few feet to the ground safely. Casting a wary look in every direction to assure no one had witnessed that, he sprinted for the barn.

Stepping into the airy building brought a longing for home. He had only been here a few short hours, many of them unconscious, but the unpleasantly warm temperature and sticky air was foreign and miserable. Two horses, his Firefoot and the other unknown, looked at him. Firefoot danced in place and tossed his head, joyful to see Éomer. The Rider's eyes passed over both in search of Charlie. A loud, dull thud emanated from above his place. He looked up questioningly as footsteps crossed the floor above him. He spotted a ladder mounted to one wall and decided it was his only way up.

Charlie was the one making the noise, moving large box-like objects in every direction. Only an oval-shaped path from her to the ladder was clear of obstacles.

"What are you looking for?" He inquired hesitantly, not knowing how hotly she would respond.

She whipped around in surprise, a small purple box in her arms. As she spun, a long sword in its sheath was knocked from its hiding place. It flew across the worn wood floor to halt a few feet before Éomer. They both stared at it momentarily, and then shared looks.

Charlie put the box down on another one near her as he came up. He picked up the sword and joined her while she cut open the unmarked box with a pocket knife.

"I remember this sword. It was Beorn's," he mused, unsheathing it to study. The blade itself was simple, but the hilt was decorated with various engravings of horses and small patterns.

Another letter was inside, sitting on top of deep forest green material covering the contents of the box. She snatched it up impatiently, but found that it was written in a script that appeared familiar but was incomprehensible to her.

She held it out to him and asked, "Can you read this?"

He looked at for a beat, deciding whether he should answer with something witty or think of it as a peace treaty. He chose the latter, setting the sheathed weapon aside to take the yellowed parchment. "_Dearest Merides_," he began only to pause.

She appeared unfazed, continuing her search of the contents.

"_I am writing this letter to comfort you in the time of my passing. I am truly sorry to be leaving you in such a changing time; especially with no family in the place you so love. Éomund and Théodwyn have agreed for you to stay with them until you are fully grown, when you may decide where to go in your life. I know how you are sometimes, Mer, and hope you will follow what I tell you._

"_I know that you share my passion for vengeance. Many, if not all, of the people of Aldburg have seen you and Éomer at what you two call play. It reminds many of us of training for battle. In any case, I do not want you to go off fighting until Éomer is of age. If you can defeat the Marshal's son at play, you very well deserve a place among the Riders. Think nothing of being in an éored of men when you join them. Being with an éored will be just as interesting as the heat of battle. The men never cease to amuse or amaze me, and will probably show you more respect than they do to me. You have that inner strength that will take you far and kill many enemies. But be careful, for that same strength may very well destroy you, as it has me._

"_Take up my sword when you feel you are ready. Ride for me, Merides, and carry my strength so that it may take you far. Never forget me, Father."_

Charlie stared absently at the box, letting the words sink in. Éomer watched her in respectful silence. This had to shake her of denial because they were the words of her late father, and recognition of that fact was obvious in her face. He looked at the paper and noticed a note on the back.

"It continues on the back. _Never forget your heart though, my daughter. You must care for it as you do your horse: with respect and great care. I hope that you find your true love, whoever he may be."_

She continued to stare at the box, and then looked at him with wide eyes. "Tell me everything you know."

* * *

I'd love some reviews. They'll help me get through all these papers to write for school.


	5. Looking For A Reason

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

Just a bit of a filler chapter; if I tacked it to what is six, it'd be a bit too long for my taste.

* * *

Chapter Five: _Looking for a Reason_

Éomer awoke to the sound of a clock chiming just loud enough to wake someone who was a light sleeper, such as himself. He glared at the offensive object on the table as it finished ringing the current time. He sighed and tried to fall back asleep, but found it impossible. The early morning sun was pouring in through the various windows, telling him that it was about seven or so, and keeping him from sleep. He looked over at Charlie, curled up beside him on the comfortable sofa, save for her foot that rested on his knee. He returned his gaze to the clock, wondering if it would chime more or let him return to the quiet. Duke trotted in from elsewhere, jumped in the chair, and curled up. He stared back at the lord innocently, only to be met with a critical, sleepy glare.

They had stayed up the better part of the night talking and sharing stories. That came after fighting the box down from the attic, through which Charlie continuously cursed under her breath, and perusing through other containers for any other secrets. Their search yielded a bow and a quiver of arrows, which he identified as the same make as his own. She took it warily, noting that the arrowheads of these were significantly sharper than the ones she had seen at tourist shops. But these were meant to kill, and the latter were meant to bring in profit.

The Marshal had done most of the talking, in an attempt to bring back any memories of Rohan. There were bits here and there that she could recall perfectly, but most of what he told her was hidden in shadows of years gone by and whatever had happened after she left the Riddermark. One question he had for her still lingered in his mind, and her dance around the subject brought up more thoughts about what she had learned in this world.

_Éomer watched her chomp away contentedly on her hamburger. He was suspicious of this food, especially the questionable bread that was the softest he had ever seen and unnaturally bright-colored sauces. He picked through the vegetables, not his favorite, but at least familiar._

"_Éomer, it's not going to kill you," she informed him. A know-it-all look danced in her eyes, almost daring him. "You have to be starving. We had the tiniest lunch I've ever had."_

_He glared defiantly. A moment passed before he decided to speak. "How do you know of Rohan even though you fail to remember your memories there?"_

_Charlie paused mid-chew, horror flashing across her face. He caught the passing look and wondered. She finished her bite of food quickly to speak. "Here, your world is kind of a legend." _

"_How do you mean?"_

_She toyed absently with a few of the heirlooms spread across the "coffee" table, as she had called it, and leaned against the plush chair. "It's hard to explain without threatening to destroy our entire existence."_

_She went back to her food, making it a point to avoid his gaze. Her dog, Duke, looked at him through droopy eyelids. Even he knew something was up._

Her bare foot stretched in place, toes flexing out and curling back inwards. Éomer's gaze moved from the clock back to her face. Charlie made a slight noise and slowly opened her eyes. She stretched the rest of her limbs and back, which popped and cracked in protest.

"Good morning," she greeted with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning. When shall we begin practice?"

She closed her eyes and mentally cursed. He had asked if they should begin her sword fighting work, since it appeared that if and when they returned home that she would ride with him. It sounded better than the alternative that he proposed: staying in Edoras with those she barely remembered or in Aldburg with no one she recognized to at least help her settle in. One stupid "yeah, sure" had gotten her into this sword mess. She would have agreed to swim across the Atlantic if someone asked her when she was half-asleep, like he had done. It was too early in the morning to wake up, much less to avoid being sliced to ribbons.

That tricky, no good, low-down—

_You're the idiot, idiot,_ the unbelievably pessimistic voice hissed in her.

Charlie sat up and curled her legs beside her. "Can we at least have breakfast?"

He stared seriously for a moment before giving her a small smile. "No hamburger though."

"Just for you." She picked up the sword, figuring that she should get used to carrying the weapon. The woman shuffled tiredly from the room and upstairs to her haven. The door clicked behind her reassuringly as Duke jumped onto the bed and settled in. Just as she went to drop the sword on the bed, another vision into her former life blindsided her.

"_God, you could give me a little warning," she muttered. Charlie jumped to her feet from the vulnerable, spread-eagle position and dusted herself off. "And maybe a pillow too."_

_Her mutterings at the sky were interrupted by the yells of children. She looked up at the open grassy square she faced and found the children that constantly came back to haunt her. She approached cautiously, having not been a spirit outside before. The light breeze of the partly cloudy day tugged at her loose ponytail and she could feel the sun on her skin, but she could almost see through her translucent body. This was unnerving for her, to say the least._

"_Oh, come on,_ _Éomer! You're worse than Éowyn!" The taunting voice reached Charlie as she walked beside a small home. She found that it was none other than Merides._

_Another blonde girl yelped in insult and searched for something to throw. Coming up empty-handed, she decided to cheer on her brother. Charlie walked towards her but went closer to the battle between the elder children. The two wildly swung their short wooden swords. They looked almost professional in their swift movements and careful footing. Merides seemed more sure about her sword, while her steps were less coordinated than those of her enemy._

_Hoof beats were heard in the distance as the ground quivered in response. The phrase "Éomund and his men are returning!" echoed throughout the cozy town of Aldburg._

_Éomer and Merides continued despite the shouts. She swung forcefully and succeeded in knocking his weapon from his grasp. She smirked mischievously only to be met with a look of fierce determination._

"_C'mon Merides!" Charlie shouted and clapped a hand over her mouth. No one even flinched even though it was quite loud._

_Merides swung at his feet but he leapt over her swoop cleanly. She swung again at his chest this time. He tripped on a stone while trying to avoid her attack and tumbled to the ground. The girl pointed the sword at him victoriously._

_Éomund and his small band approached the children on horseback but stopped a few yards short. The two leaders dismounted gracefully and joined the young ones. Charlie and Éowyn stepped closer._

"_Stand down, Merides," one said, removing his helmet. It was obviously Éomund, as his features were similar to the older Éomer: messy golden hair, murky brown eyes, and a piercing stare._

_She glanced at both Riders and dropped her arm. She offered a helping hand to her fallen comrade and pulled him to his feet._

"_Beorn, do you really think it is wise to let your daughter learn how to handle a sword?" Éomund inquired as his children welcomed him with hugs._

"_I don't see why Merides should not learn how to defend herself. She is older than when Éomer began his training," the taller man responded smoothly as he removed his helmet. His dark brown eyes glittered in the patchy sunlight._

_Charlie stared at him in amazement as the world seemed to stop. He was her father. The man standing before her now was him, alive in spirit. His eyes were just as full of life as hers had always been. He must have given her his height, too, because she was just an inch shy of six feet tall and he was even taller than her. The same sword hung loosely around his waist that had been in her hands just moments before, looking no different except for the dried orc blood on his. But she still could not wrap her head around the fact that he was right there, real as anything. _

"_Don't tell me you expect her to become a Rider!" He exclaimed. Éomer snorted at the remark, while Éowyn gave her elder friend a sympathetic look. They were accustomed to the men wanting to protect women and reluctantly accepted the roles they would take on later in life. Éowyn knew that she was a shield maiden, but also knew that there was little chance that she would ever truly face battle._

_Merides glared at the lord and his son. Charlie realized what he meant and acted as if she would start shrieking at him angrily, but knew it would do no good. She shifted in place and stared at them with as much fury as her younger counterpart._

"_If she is strong enough to beat Éomer, I believe she is worthy of it."_

"_Thank you!" Charlie exclaimed._

_Éomund shook his head and chuckled. He asked his children, "What do you say we go find your mother?"_

_The family trotted off, both children talking animatedly. Merides watched them leave, her metaphorical bubble burst. Charlie wondered who she was meant to go with, but felt no pull to the lord and his family, so she stayed put._

"_Merides," Beorn stated, kneeling down at her level and setting his helmet aside._

_She turned as her older ghost came to their level. The young girl's eyes sparkled with happiness for her father's return, but not as bright as they usually did after Éomund's scoffing._

"_You can be whoever you want to be. Éomund is only angry that you defeated his son. I believe that you could be in the King's Host before you are my age— 36," he added, knowing she rarely kept track of numbers at her age. The wind tugged lightly at his mousy brown hair, matted from lack of care. Charlie noted the strong, square jaw and well-sculpted cheekbones. She paused when she reached the long scar that ran from near his ear, following the contour of his jaw, and disappearing under his chin._

_Merides nodded, and then whipped around at a tap on her shoulder. She came face to face with the end of the wooden sword of Éomer. He grinned triumphantly and gave chase when she lunged._

_Charlie was yanked just as ungracefully as the other times, almost expecting it by now._

She looked at the sheathed weapon in her hand. A female Rider? King's Host? None of this sounded even remotely safe.

* * *

And so the plot thickens…

Thanks to all that reviewed, and to my beta Megan. I love y'all.

If you'd like to give me an early Christmas present, please review. If not, then, well, whatever, that's your choice.


	6. Wild Ride

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

Ah, the good old chapter of someone learning how to swordfight. Of course, it's being taught by Éomer, and he's trying to teach Charlie, so…

* * *

Chapter Six: _Wild Ride_

"Éomer, you do realize that I don't know the first thing about sword fighting, right? I'm dead-on with a shotgun, and maybe a bow since it's the same concept of aim-n-fire. But I've never touched anything sword-like." Charlie caught his look that spoke volumes without a word and promptly closed her mouth.

"Merides could wield a sword as well as any Rider I know." Éomer picked up the weapon from the table where she had tossed it in rebellion. He held it out to her but she kept her arms folded over her chest.

"Seventeen years is more than a little rusty. Are you sure you're willing to trust me with a sharp, deadly object?" She stared him straight in the eye, attempting to break him.

He smiled and chuckled at her attempt. "Then I have seventeen years more experience than you."

There was no avoiding this, no matter how much effort. With an exaggerated sigh, she snatched the weapon from him and strode to a clear place before the open barn doors. He stepped closer to her, chain mail clinking softly against itself. She had outright refused to practice unless he had something to protect himself, just another ploy to waste time.

"I'm sure you remember something from your original lessons. Do what seems natural."

She nodded and shifted into a comfortable stance.

Éomer began to circle her then swung his sword without the slightest warning. She shrieked as she swung her own to block him. The sound of clanking metal reverberated throughout the barn, stirring the horses. A moment passed before they looked at their blades and at each other.

"So you do remember something," he stated with an amused look.

She stared in awe, heart trying to beat its way out of her chest. It felt so innate, as if she had done it daily for most of her life. Of course, she had done it almost daily years before. But if the skill had been bottled up in her for so long, why had she never felt the slightest urge to do it until now?

She could only express her amazement by breathing, "whoa."

He moved his sword down to attack again, but moved all too quickly without telling her. Charlie was still mesmerized by her feat and barely noticed. There was still energy pent up within her, and when he moved her sword moved also. A thin cut was sliced cleanly across his forearm, the crimson blood appearing almost instantly.

They both gasped, one in pain and the other in shock. She dropped her weapon as her hands moved to cover her mouth. The sword clanged against the ground, but went unheard.

"Éomer, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—" She stepped closer to him to aid, but he pulled her into a hug with his unwounded arm at her obvious fright.

"Shh, shh, I'll be fine. It is only a scratch." He stroked her head comfortingly, flattening the small tangles in her ponytail. She had been away from the fight for too long, and he felt that he had pulled her back in much too quickly.

He was going to be fine, but she never was and neither would anything else, she concluded. "Éomer, I have something I need to get off my chest."

He pulled away just enough to look at her. "Is everything fine?"

She held his gaze for a moment, and then broke it to look at his shoulder. His looks could relax her like no one else's could, and was going to make her freeze up if she looked in them for another moment. He needed to know, otherwise he would become suspicious. "Yes. No. I don't know. I've seen our fathers."

"But they—"

"I know they've been dead for years," she interrupted, returning her eyes to his. "I've been seeing us as children. They can't be dreams 'cause I'm wide awake. And they ain't visions 'cause I'm not seeing the future. But I've seen them and they were as real as us. I have no fucking clue as to what the hell's goin' on, and now you probably think I'm crazy."

"You are not crazy, only what you're going through is. Perhaps you're trying to remember what you lost."

"I figured that much out already. The first few I had only proved that I'm from Rohan. But I don't understand why I'm being shown our fathers when they're dead and when I know I'm from the same place." She decided against mentioning the King's Host until she could hide out with her laptop. "I don't want to see what I can't have. That's why I yell at my best friend Endi anytime she brings around a pair of Manolo's."

"Then perhaps it was to show that you have his fighting spirit and stubbornness." He smiled in fake sincerity, disregarding the comment about "Manolo," since he was clueless as to who or what it was.

She smiled half-heartedly, not caring how serious he was. "C'mon, let's get that cut fixed."

* * *

Four weeks passed. Charlie woke up stiff, sore, and cranky, only to return to bed more so after ten hours of practice each day. Éomer ignored her sarcastic remarks about Third Marshals of the Mark walking into bars, since she was crabbier in the morning than Éowyn was and even yelled at a loaf of bread at one point. He was amazed at how quickly she picked up some of the techniques, especially those she had little training in. Duke became exhausted just by watching them spar, and took to retiring at lunch just to rest. Even Bridget, usually lively and energetic, became tired of simply being ridden so Charlie could train on horseback.

They never knew horses could give dirty looks until after those two weeks. Charlie assured her that it was training to run with the boys, something they were both born to do. She reluctantly bought her story, or took the carrot from her rider only because it was offered. She still disliked Éomer, perhaps because of the stallion that was a few stalls down.

Today, he had announced, was the last of her training. She had nearly burst into tears of happiness, but opted for pure milk in her cereal. Soon all of their energy was going into finding a way back into Middle Earth. First, however, she had to survive one last day of hell.

The sun was setting behind the tall pine trees, droplets of golden light splattered across the back of the house and pool. A stray breeze blew past, making the trees whisper and sway their shadows. Water in the pool lapped against the edge, the wind causing it to become more frequent. It did nothing but muddle Charlie's glare at Éomer, constantly pulling loose locks into her face.

"I swear to God, if I fall in this pool, you are goin' to run to Cuba," she snapped, dark eyes alight with fury.

"I'd heed that warnin', amigo," Morgan told him, stifling his chuckles.

The rest of the men were camped out around him, taking over the lounge chairs and table to watch the final face-off. They had originally come to collect their paychecks, but found the duo squaring off beside the pool. No one minded to wait if it meant watching their ever-confident boss be pushed in the pool.

"Jorge still hasn't come back," Steve added. The others nodded and sniggered.

"Guys, shut the hell up!" Charlie yelled, not breaking her glare at Éomer.

"Charlie, focus. You never know where you may find yourself in danger," Éomer informed her in a steady, unaffected tone. "And I do not know where Cuba is."

She glanced down to find her heels precariously close to the edge of the concrete. More determined than ever, she met his look and threw all of her energy into pushing him and his sword backwards.

One simple push from him was all it took. She yelped as she tumbled ungracefully backwards into the water. The young woman surfaced almost immediately, sending water in every direction with her spin to face him. She sputtered as she pulled her wet tresses from her face to glare furiously between him and the guys. The latter were leaning on each other, laughing and crying hysterically.

"Oy! The checks are on the hall table like they are every time! Get outta here!" She shrieked.

They promptly darted in the house through the sliding doors, fearing her wrath despite the fact that she appeared utterly ridiculous when soaking wet.

"Éomer—" She began in a warning tone. He would have to _sprint_ to Cuba now.

"You never know you may find danger—"

She held up a hand to stop him, only to find her now dark hair attached to her fingertips. "I get it. I got it the first damn time you said it. Was pushing me in really necessary?"

He avoided looking directly into her glare for a moment. "The elder man—"

"Morgan put you up to this? Seems men everywhere are arrogant, small-minded—"

"Let me help you out," he offered, unsure if he wanted her to continue her thought.

She eyed the hand her held out, then smirked at her idea. She took his hand gratefully, acted as though she was getting out, and then yanked him into the lukewarm water.

Hysterical laughter greeted him when he surfaced. Their blonde hair had turned dark from being doused, shiny in the waning gold sun. He watched impatiently as her laughing subsided, but found something almost beautiful about the way her face scrunched up when she giggled. He shook his head, banishing the thought. She was his best friend and right now his only friend. She was just that, no more, no less.

"I'm sorry. That was just too easy to pull. We better get out before the water wreaks havoc on our clothes." She dove under to collect the swords and headed for the ladder while he swam gracefully to the stairs to avoid any further tricks.

Charlie felt an odd sensation run down her spine as she strode to claim a towel. She paused and turned to look at the woods behind her home, water dripping from the sleeves of the plaid shirt that ended at her forearms, landing on her feet. She ignored the cool liquid and studied the quiet area.

Éomer joined her, handing over a towel. "What is it?"

She handed over his weapon and patted her face dry. "Nothing. I thought I heard something, but it was probably just a squirrel."

He watched her suspiciously, noticing how closely she surveyed the trees.

"Yeah, just a squirrel. Let's get dinner." She turned and stalked into the house. She swore she heard the trees whisper the name _Merides_.

As a minor change, Charlie's best friend's name is now Endi changed from Liz. You'll find out next chapter.

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Thanks to those who reviewed. And shariena, I didn't respond 'cause you know how I update.

With that note, a review or two would be lovely.


	7. A Place to Land

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

Thanks to _4th Triforce piece _for inspiring this chapter and a few chapters to come. Éomer thanks you for, well, everything.

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Chapter Seven: _A Place to Land_

Charlie opened the door to the closet beneath the stairs, hinges creaking and squeaking in protest. She grimaced at the loud noise, knowing who would come to investigate. A beat passed and she was not joined by man or dog. She stepped in with a sigh of relief and waved her hand through the air in search of the chain to the light.

She had thought too soon, for steps echoed in the hallway. The floorboards groaned as Éomer approached curiously. "Why are you standing in the dark?"

"I'm turning on the light." Her fingers found the dusty chain and tugged softly. She waited for the ancient bare bulb to brighten the space, but the linen closet remained dark. She yanked it a few more times impatiently, one time caused by a sneeze from the stirred dust, to no result.

"Whatever it is, it does not seem to work," he stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

She glared at him, but realized that standing in the dark hid that fact. He was watching her with a mix of curiosity and concern, oblivious to her anger.

"Can you get the flashlight?" No sooner had the words left her mouth before she realized what she had done. She had released hell on herself, in every sense.

"What is this flashlight?" He pondered on this new term for the slightest moment. Was it some object that belonged to a wizard? Wizards were able to do many things no regular man could do, and a flash of light was certainly one.

"It—"

A loud knock at the front door interrupted her attempt at explanation. She sighed irritably and brushed past him to escape the confines of the closet. Her bare feet made the slightest thuds as she approached the door. She smoothed her damp shirt down to appear more presentable and opened the door to her guest.

"Morgan? What's up? Did something happen?" She leaned on the door and studied his features carefully.

"I was headin' out when I saw the power crew workin' on your line. I figured your amigo there don't exactly know about electricity, and that you deserved fair warnin'." He tipped the worn cowboy hat back on his graying brown hair to give her a sincere look.

"Whoa, hold on. You're telling me that I've gone four weeks without electricity and hot water?" She had been up and down with the sun, but living without such staples she would have realized. Well, she thought she would have realized something so blatantly obvious.

"I guess so," he chuckled. "Here are the clothes Mattie washed. She saw the crew in town earlier so she figured you'd go shopping. And she said she hated the temptation of buying your chocolate fudge-whatever ice cream." He handed over a duffel bag that smelled of fresh lilacs.

Meanwhile, Éomer had wandered back into the living room, not knowing what this 'electricity' was. _Perhaps it is related to this flash-light,_ he wondered. He paused in route to the sofa and looked at the object that caught his eye. It sat on the coffee table, almost taunting the Marshal to pick it up. _Perhaps this is the flash-light,_ he concluded as curiosity gnawed at him. He picked it up gently with his fingertips, not knowing how the creation of a wizard would react to someone other than a wizard.

It was rectangular in shape, but the corners of this box were rounded and smooth. He would have said its color was black, but it seemed almost gray in the proper light. Its texture reminded him of a roughly polished stone, but was incredibly lighter than any stone of this size. He felt that he should hold it like his sword, but the odd raised features upon one side made doing so uncomfortable. Then there was the lettering, characteristic of her language, above and on the odd bumps.

He glanced up as Charlie closed the door and jogged up the stairs with a bag that seemed large in her arms. She was clearly avoiding him so she would not have to explain the flash-light or electricity.

He returned his full attention to his new discovery. He hesitated, but finally poked tentatively at a few of the bumps, one larger one, and a number of ones much smaller than his fingertip. They gave easily under the pressure, but to no result. He was displeased by this, so he poked several different ones, including a round red one.

The large, flat screen before him came to life, what had been black being covered with bright colors. A colored map appeared, lettering in the strange text of this world dotting it. This land he had mysteriously come to seemed to have no mountains, just lakes and odd lines cutting across the land.

"The weather's looking pretty quiet for most of Florida, especially in the peninsula—" Éomer guessed this was the large green mass that jutted into the blue "—at the moment, there's only a few scattered showers along the coastline, but we expect those to die out within a few hours. A few storms around Vero have turned into some thunderstorms…"

His eyes widened as the map moved to focus on a specific portion of the map, a colorful blur becoming more detailed. Then a man wandered in front of the map, looking even more curious than the men of the farm. He had hair cropped close to his head, shorter than he had ever seen on a grown man—or even on a boy, for that matter. His clothing was similar in style to what Charlie wore, but hung on him loosely and was a uniform gray. A bright blue shirt was under the short cloak, oddly paired with some distasteful fabric necklace.

The thunder of footfalls echoed down the stairs, followed by Charlie. She scrambled towards him frantically, trying not to run into the banister or Duke, who was making his evening rounds of the house. She skidded to a clean stop before smacking into him, and looked at the "living" screen. She muttered a long phrase in fluent Spanish, but he paid no attention. She watched him study the screen with an utterly clueless expression.

"Do you think this is wizard's work, Éomer?"

He tore his attention from the gesturing man and thoughts of "cold fronts." There was no happy-go-lucky glint in her eyes, just the most serious look he had ever seen from her. He held her look as he chose his words carefully. "Everyone in this world appears to be a wizard then, except for Master Morgan and his men. But this man, he can predict the weather with an enchanted map. And you have this mystical box with the man inside…"

She blinked a few times, contemplating his words, and finally smiled. She leaned on the corner of the "mystical box" and rubbed her nose to keep from laughing at him. "Okay, first things first. This is a television, or a TV for short. And there is no little man living in there, trust me. People elsewhere create the pictures and films and play them. Does this make sense?"

"What is a film?" He questioned after a moment.

"Think of it as a bunch of pictures that are in order and play out something. It's kind of hard to explain, but do you understand that?"

Éomer pondered her explanation for a moment and nodded. It was all too obvious to Charlie that he just barely grasped a faint idea of the concept.

_It's also plainly obvious that men are still overprotective of their prides, especially when from another world, _she thought with a tiny smile. "Hold on a second while I find something. This will make ten times more sense." She disappeared in the direction of the kitchen and proceeded to make shuffling noises.

He watched the television for a moment, the changing screens mesmerizing him like a small child. She returned just as the screen changed to that of one with seven symbols depicting clouds and suns. The confused Marshal reluctantly faced her.

"Okay, this," she held up a silver object that fit easily in her grasp, "is a camera. It takes pictures—well, take isn't the best choice of words. Here, let me show you."

Duke was sniffing a pair of her boots beside the hall table, ignoring them. Charlie pointed the round part of the camera at the dog.

"Duke!" She yelped, causing him to look up in surprise and annoyance. "Éomer, watch this."

He moved to look over her shoulder, and his eyebrows rose in sheer amazement at the small screen in her hands. It showed much of what he saw before him, but on an impressively smaller scale. She pressed a small button and a flash of light burst from the camera. Both he and Duke jumped at the suddenness, though Duke had a dazed expression. The dog shot her a look and trotted towards the kitchen.

"Alrighty," she began, pressing a few buttons before she turned the screen towards him, "This is a picture."

He studied the small screen, which showed her dog in great detail though he was nowhere to be seen in reality. "This is…" He looked between her face and the screen, unsure of what to say.

"It's magic without it really being magic?" She contemplated.

He nodded slightly, studying the screen for another moment in fascination. She slowly pried it from his hands, wanting to show him more.

"Okay, you got the basics of pictures. A film is basically the same idea, but it's a whole bunch of pictures put into order to show something happening." Charlie pressed a different button on the camera and stepped closer to him. She quickly turned it over in her hands, turning the round part towards them.

He stared at it curiously, concluding that this part "took" the moment, as she had put it.

"Éomer, it's recording." She looked up at him, patiently waiting for him to talk.

"Pictures do not record voices. Why do films?" He returned the look, though his declared that he was skeptical of these inventions.

"It's…they just do. They didn't years and years ago, but they've developed them to." She turned the lens away from them as she stepped from his side, slightly annoyed by explaining everything. "Okay, let me see how it turned out."

She clicked a few buttons, and a moment later fuzzy static and choppy voices echoed from the camera. Éomer watched as her lips slowly disappeared as she sucked them between her teeth, something he noticed she did when something was not going as planned.

"What is it?"

She glanced up. "It's nothing." She quickly pressed a button and placed it on the side table. "The batteries need to be recharged. Let's go find some dinner."

As he watched her stride towards the kitchen, his brow furrowed. It was obvious she was hiding something she had discovered on the camera, but he wondered how he could divulge it from her.

* * *

_That was way too weird for me,_ Charlie thought as she opened the refrigerator door. _Why in the world were we ghosts? I can understand why Éomer would be, since he's technically not real. Of course, I'm from the same world, so I should be the same. But none of the pictures Mom took are like that…_

She poked through different containers, opening a few unmarked ones and checking expiration dates on others. After a moment, she gathered a few colorful containers in her arms and walked to the trash can, where she let gravity take over. Just as the items made their last thuds in the bottom, Éomer appeared in the doorway.

"Where did you find so much food? And why do you have so much when only you and Duke live here?"

"Dang, you have a lot of questions," she mused with a smile. "All that food came from the refrigerator, which didn't keep it cold since we haven't had power. And I don't throw things out like I should. Some of the stuff I kept just in case Mom came back."

He was more inquisitive about this refrigerator than her adoptive mother—he could ask about her mother in one of their odd silences. "What is—?"

"A refrigerator? Yeah, I figured that was coming. This is it." She walked over to a large silver box with one long black handle down one side, except for where it split into two pieces. "It keeps food cold so it will stay fresh for about a week or so, rather than just a few days. And you don't have to salt anything."

He stared at it suspiciously, wondering how it could do something so amazing, yet appear so uninteresting. "How does it do this?"

"Electricity." She sighed at his blank look. "Okay, a long, _long _time ago, a crazy guy by the name of Ben Franklin decided to fly a kite with a key on it during a thunderstorm. Basically, we developed from that to take that power and make it into something we could use to generate light and other things. I can't tell you much more, since I wasn't big on learning about electricity."

He mulled over this for a few moments as she walked to the closet next to him. She knelt down on one knee and began to reorganize things sloppily, balancing a few things on one leg before she placed them elsewhere in the closet. After a moment of simply staring at a small box, she ran a hand through her damp hair and sighed.

"I thought I told Mattie to get more stove dinners," she grumbled, searching through a few more items.

"Stove?"

"The thing over there with the big black coils. It heats food without having an open flame," she responded, deep in thought as to what she would do about dinner.

He nodded, staring at the similarly silver cube for a moment before watching her. She finally stood back up and gave him a hesitant look. She opened her mouth once, quickly shut it, then opened it once again.

"It looks like we have to go shopping, or we're stuck eating cake and cookie mix. You can stay here, if you—"

"I'd like to go. I want to see this city, Vero."

"Well, that settles that." She walked over to the breakfast nook and shuffled a few things on the small, worn table, finally pulling out a small bag. A few things were tossed in before she turned on heel, breezed past him, and walked through a doorway he had never noticed before.

He waited a moment before he walked past the closet and through this other doorway, finding himself in the dining room. She stood at the opposite end of the table from where they usually ate, her back to him. She was rearranging stacks of clothes, pausing on some items before she passed them over.

"Why, may I ask, is half of your clothing down here, where we eat?" He had never noticed the clothing, but he could vaguely remember some sort of blanket being draped there.

"It's not mine, it's some of the stuff my friends leave lying around. You look like the same size as Kyle…here, change into this upstairs." She held out a pair of dark jeans and a shirt, similar to what she had given him to be more comfortable in the Florida heat.

He took it hesitantly and followed her out to the foyer and upstairs, turning left to his room as he reached the top.

A few minutes later, Éomer emerged from his room, feeling very unlike himself in these borrowed clothes and the boots Charlie had discovered in the barn the day before. He descended the stairs slowly, slightly annoyed with himself for electing to go.

"Ready to go?" Charlie asked as he reached the bottom step. He eyed her outfit curiously, as she was baring more skin than any woman he had ever seen before, yet did not seemed at all bothered by it. She was wearing a white tank top that hugged every curve, while her baggy, blue and black swirl-patterned pants fell loosely to her knees. "Oh, I almost forgot."

He raised an eyebrow as she retrieved something from her pocket and tied his hair back with it gently, careful not to tug on any stray hairs. As she picked up her bag, he shot her a questioning look.

"You know how I said Rohan is a place of legend here? People may recognize you. I'll tell you in the truck." She opened the front door and waited for him to step out into the evening light, a violet blue color on the porch and shrubbery. She quickly locked the door and they started towards the large black pick-up.

"This is a truck?" He wondered as she guided him to one side.

"Yup, a Ford F-250," she informed him, a loving look in her eyes as she stared at the grill. "Runs on gasoline, a type of fuel they get out of the ground, if you were wondering."

He eyed the interior of the vehicle for a moment as she helped him into his seat. She jogged around to the other side, climbed in as swiftly as he mounted his horse, and started the truck. He gripped what he could as the entire vehicle vibrated as the engine started, now regretting that he did not stay inside the house. He did not want to insult his friend, however, so he stayed.

"A'ight, let's rock-n-roll." She shifted out of park and pulled a quick U-turn, nearly flooring it as she started down the road away from the house.

Éomer gripped the armrest even tighter, fearing for his life for the first time in this strange, new world.

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See next chapter for my note.


	8. Fury

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

* * *

Chapter Eight: _Fury_

Shortly before one of the stop lights, Charlie slowed the truck down and pulled into a nearly dark parking lot. The truck glided easily over the indented rain gutter, something that would have jostled them had they been in a smaller vehicle. Éomer had kept his eyes on her for most of the ride as she talked, especially because he did not understand the purpose of headlights and could not see far beyond them. He was much more accustomed to traveling in pure darkness, and preferred it over her way.

"Oh, great," Charlie exclaimed as she pulled into a place between two smaller cars. She shifted into park and looked out her window at three guys gathered around a small car a few yards away.

Éomer leaned over to look past her, sensing that she did not want to speak to them. "Who are they?"

"My ex-boyfriend and his entourage. They haven't grown up to be men, yet they think they have and harp on about being in their late twenties. Now, remember what I told you. These guys are goin' to try to piss me off and bother you, but don't acknowledge them, okay?" She gave him a warning look as she stepped out of the truck.

Éomer quickly recited her instructions in his head. To anyone that spoke to him, his name was Keith, he was from a place called Orlando, and he had befriended Charlie in something called college. If anyone inquired about more of his history, she said that she would try to take over; since everyone knew she loved to have control over a situation. Her mother had given her too much control when she had left for Nashville, and it had gone to her head, she joked. Once he was certain he had it memorized, he got out of the truck and joined her.

"Let me do all the talkin' with these boneheads. You won't understand a word they say." She told him in a hushed tone as they walked towards the brightly lit store, her eyes focused on the ground.

He felt slightly concerned, for she usually walked with her head high. He could tell that this small action would not keep the men from noticing them, as they had already ceased conversing loudly and now watched them.

"Well, well, well, look who it is boys! It's the perfect Charlotte Manning…and she has a friend!" One of the men, his curly brown hair ruffling in the slight breeze, approached them with a drunken swagger. His grey eyes settled first on Charlie, then on Éomer, sizing him up.

"Go to hell, Lee," she snapped, barely faltering in her long strides. She cast a glance at Éomer, who returned a reassuring look before staring straight ahead.

"Go to hell, Lee," he mocked in a squeaky, annoying voice as he followed a few paces behind. "That's all you got? Seriously Char, ever since I broke up with you, you just ain't been the same."

She stopped, looked towards the sky as if she would find aid, and turned on her heel to face him. "We broke up, let me think now, over ten years ago. In those ten years, I've had three other boyfriends, and you've had zero girlfriends. Strippers don't count, so don't even try. If anything, you ain't been the same since."

His two friends childishly exclaimed, "Oooh!"

Lee turned his head and glared to quiet them. "Yo, shut up! Whose side you on?" He turned back to Charlie. "Me and Gina got something good goin' now. And I've had a bunch of girls that ain't been strippers."

Charlie shook her head and chuckled. "Whatever, Lee. I really don't feel like getting in a battle of wits with you, especially since we all know who would win." She turned and began to walk away, but Lee grabbed her elbow and pulled her back roughly.

"Where the hell do you think you're goin', sunshine? We ain't finished talkin'." She could smell the alcohol on his breath, wondering how much he had drank already.

"Excuse me? Last time I checked, this was a free country. I can do whatever the hell I please." She pulled her arm out of his grip sharply and stepped away. The venom of anger was obvious in her tone, and the expression in her eyes gave away that she was ready for a fight.

His friends made their childish exclamation again, earning looks from everyone.

"Charlie, I can't believe you forgot your manners. Who's your buddy here?" Lee walked up to Éomer, stepping up close enough to nearly stare him in the eyes.

She nearly chuckled at how short Lee was compared to Éomer, who was staring at the other man in an extremely annoyed manner. Lee only reached his shoulder and was nowhere near as muscled, and she almost expected Éomer to push him out of his space. He was a Marshal, after all, and very accustomed to respect.

"He doesn't want to know you, so why does it matter?"

"Sure he does! Everyone wants to know Lee Anderson!" He exclaimed, his breath causing Éomer to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Even his Riders did not act as terrible as this, no matter how much alcohol they had consumed.

"Charlie has already spoken my feelings. I do not wish to know you," Éomer informed him in a dark tone.

Lee sent him a vengeful look, turning to attack the source of his troubles. "Why do you do this to me, Manning? What the hell did I ever do to you?"

"Why did I do what?" She asked innocently, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "If anything, you've done this to yourself."

He lunged at her with a growl, angered by her innocent act. She did not expect the lightning-quick action, and was promptly knocked to the ground. In self-defense, she began to assail his back with punches as he seemed to attempt to push her into the rough asphalt.

"Dude! Lee!" His friends yelped and threw themselves into the fray.

Éomer jumped in quickly, hooking his arms under Charlie's shoulders to pull her out. Lee held on for a moment until his friends overpowered him and he struggled against them to attack her, yelling obscenities. Charlie dared not to fight the iron grip Éomer had around her, only stared at her ex-boyfriend in disbelief. No one had ever dared to attack her, and Endi had only ever punched her in playfulness. She was tempted to start yelling back, revealing everything that had become lies and secrets, but she knew that she would be lowering herself to his level if she did. Éomer wished to let go of her and assault him, feeling that he would be less honorable for not protecting her.

A moment later, just as his screeching hit a higher decibel, a car pulled into the parking lot. As its headlights fell on the group, the driver flicked on his blue and red lights, stating that he was with the police. Charlie finally relaxed against his chest in knowing that she had definitely won this fight. Lee continued for a moment until his friends started telling him to shut up. The police cruiser stopped several feet from them and the driver opened his door, stepping out and eyeing them.

"Ryan," Charlie breathed with a sigh of relief.

"Who is he?" Éomer asked quietly.

"He's a police officer. I know y'all don't have much crime to really have guys like this, but he's the one puts the bad guys away," she whispered, keeping her gaze locked on the tan uniformed man.

The blonde-haired man studied the people before him, giving Charlie a small smile. He waited for Lee to calm down before his asked, "What is everyone's business here?"

"We're just here to do shopping," Charlie piped up quickly.

"And what about you fine gentlemen? Are you buying anything?" Ryan asked, smirking at his sarcasm.

"Ryan, you know that we don't got any money! We had to spend it all to bail Tom out a couple days ago," one of Lee's cronies exclaimed, earning a glare from his friends.

"Well boys, loitering isn't allowed. I suggest you get in that sad excuse of a car and get outta here before I have to arrest you."

At his threat, they stumbled over each other to jump in the dragster car. Lee paused before getting in and sent Charlie a heated glare. She blinked at him, knowing he was little to fear. Sure, he was taller and heavier than she, but she did ten times the hard labor he did. And now with Éomer's training, beating Lee would be a piece of cake, if she had the chance.

Ryan watched the small hot rod zip through the parking lot to the exit, cutting off a car as it pulled onto the road. He shook his head and laughed, unable to remember why and how he could have ever been friends with him. He slammed his car door shut as he walked over to Charlie and Éomer, who released her from his grip.

"Thanks Ryan. I don't know what would've gone down if you hadn't shown." She gave him a friendly hug and smoothed out her mussed, yet already loose ponytail.

"Char, how many times have I told you to just keep walking when he starts to harass you?" He playfully poked her in the shoulder, contradicting the seriousness in his sky blue eyes.

"Four thousand. Seriously, he wouldn't let me keep walking." She poked him back and crossed her arms over her chest.

"She speaks the truth," Éomer supplied. "She tried to keep going, but he did not allow her to do so."

Ryan studied him curiously, feeling that he recognized him from somewhere. "Hey, it's cool. Charlie's never been one to lie, unless it's to protect her chewing gum."

"Will you shut up about that?"

"Um, nope. I guess I should introduce myself, since Charlie seems to have lost her manners. I'm Ryan Menendez, and despite these boy-next-door looks, I am Mexican. Here legally." He held out his hand, which Éomer simply stared at quizzically.

"Hey, germophobe, he has a cold," Charlie informed him quietly. She smiled as he quickly pulled his hand back with an innocent grin. "Ryan, this is Keith, one of my friends from college. Keith, this is Ryan, Endi's step-brother, and one of the most annoying people in the world."

"After Lee and company," he added.

"After Lee and Co., of course," she echoed.

The small radio on Ryan's shoulder crackled to life, a mouthful of numbers and short codes heard. Ryan cocked his head closer to it and listened for a moment. He sighed as the transmission finished, shifting in place.

"Duty calls?" Charlie asked.

"Of course it does. It hasn't been two minutes and it sounds like Anderson's got his ass in an accident." She snorted at this and he grinned in equal amusement. "Char, listen to me this time. Don't let him get to you. Next time he tries to piss you off, flip him the bird, and give him a good dose of pepper spray. Then call me to the scene so I can laugh myself to death while I arrest him."

She smiled, but it was hard to discern whether she was amused by his statement or concerned over another face-off. "Don't you have an accident to get to?"

Ryan opened the car door and began to slide in. Before he did, he told her one last phrase, "Rock and roll, Charlie Manning."

"Si se puede, Ryan Menendez," she finished and nodded at him in farewell.

He restarted his police cruiser and quickly sped out of the lot, the lights and sirens nearly deafening and blinding them.

Charlie watched the cruiser until it disappeared into the night before she finally turned to Éomer. "Well, I think that's enough excitement for one night. Let's get this shopping done and get home."

He thought for a moment before he finally spoke, wondering how much of the jokester was still in her that had been in Merides. "Why does everyone seem to think you have forgotten your manners?"

* * *

Okay, wow, it's been an unbelievably long time. You can't believe how sorry I am that it's been so much time. Life and all its problems caught up with my parents and I, and school demanded a bunch of attention. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up within the next week or so, since I have some of it already typed.


	9. Eternity

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

If anything is wrong with this chapter in any way, all of the blame goes to me. My beta is away at the moment and I didn't want to leave y'all hanging.

* * *

Chapter Nine: _Eternity_

The journey home was unnaturally quiet, to say the least. Charlie pressed a few buttons on the radio, cursing once, before settling in her seat. After that, the only voices in the car were those of country singers and the disc jockey. Nothing came from the driver's side except for a few sighs that hinted at several emotions. She acted as if she would begin to say something, but would fake a yawn or would rub at some invisible mark on her jaw.

Éomer was tempted to question her about the encounter, but he sensed that he would receive one of her cryptic answers that left him wondering even more. Instead, he quietly observed her as they put away the "groceries," as she called them, and had dinner. Soon after they rinsed the dishes, she yawned, though he could tell that it was faked, and said that she was going to take a long, hot bath and go to bed.

After his own bath, which Charlie insisted on because of a substance in her pool, he was glad to settle into his own bed on the living room couch (she had planned to offer him the bed in her mother's room, but he saw that it pained her to bother with possessions of someone so far from her and claimed the couch as his own). His mind wandered over events of the day, especially that of before their trip inside the massive store, which was filled with more food than he had ever seen in one place at one time. Lee had been the most arrogant, disrespectful person he had ever met in his life. Éomer was more anxious than ever to return home, where he would be treated with respect and would not have to worry about such people.

His thoughts soon moved on to Charlie, who had been eerily timid since the encounter. She seemed detached from what was going on around her, as if she was lost in her own thoughts. Whenever he or someone she knew talked to her, that lively personality was not as obvious as it had always been.

Of course, he came to realize, Merides had been more timid whenever there was trouble. He even remembered her being startled by her father's horse when he returned wounded:

_The men had returned as planned, and the lord's children and their friend went running to them as usual. Éomund dismounted quickly, catching all of them before Merides could get past. They all looked at him curiously, sensing that something had happened._

"_Éomer, take them back inside. I do not want them to see this." He stared at his son, serious and desperate._

_By the time the words had left his mouth, it was already too late. Merides gasped, seeing something beyond Éomund. The lord turned, wondering if she had seen her father or another Rider, but in a cruel twist of fate, she had seen Beorn._

_Beorn slid from his horse with the assistance of nearby Riders. He clutched at a wound on his abdomen, the blood trickling slowly over his hand. He looked up through his messy brown hair and saw his only child. "Merides," he breathed, not wishing her to see this. The pain was obvious in his dark eyes, the distressed look of her witnessing this weakness._

_She stepped away from Éomund, a horrified look in her eyes. It was obvious that she had no idea what to do._

"_Mer," Éomer began, reaching for her._

_Merides moved away from him before she finally took off running, disappearing as she turned down a small street._

_An hour or so later, she quietly slipped into the nearly deserted stables. Éomer heard the door being opened, but did not emerge from the stall where he was grooming his father's horse. He assumed it was simply one of the stable hands, or a Rider. The person stepped quietly in his direction, and he paused, curious as to whom it was._

_A moment later, Merides appeared beside the horse, eerily silent. He watched her stroke the horse's nose for a moment, waiting for her to break the silence._

"_Mer, are you—?"_

"_I'm fine," she interrupted, voice low and hoarse._

_He studied her as he pretended to brush the horse. Her eyes were slightly red and puffy, and her face seemed pinker than before. He thought about asking her if she had been crying, but he knew that she would most likely give him one of those annoyed looks and not answer._

"_I'm sure your father will be fine."_

_She sighed, obviously lost in thought. Éomer gave the horse one last pat and left the stall. He waited for a moment as she gave the horse her goodbyes, hoping that he could divulge more with a little time. She left the horse with one last peck on the nose, which he rolled his eyes at, and, almost reluctantly, joined him._

"_Have they told you anything?" He finally asked as they neared the door._

"_No, and they will not even let me near where they are keeping him." She mentioned nothing of being scared, but he could sense the emotion in her frustrated tone. "Can we talk about something else, please?"_

_She leaned against a post, not realizing a horse was only inches from her back, or she paid the thought no mind. The horse, which was her father's chestnut mare, nudged her playfully in the shoulder, hoping for the customary snack. Merides flinched and yelped, turning to stare at the horse with wide eyes._

"_Mer, did she just—?" He began, hoping to tease her and lighten the mood._

"_Yes!" She shrieked the single word and stormed out of the stables._

Footsteps in the hall shattered his quiet reminiscing. He turned to look, though it strained him to see much in the tiny sliver of moonlight from the window. Just as he was able to discern various objects in view, he saw a figure swiftly, with an air of stealth as it leapt over the one creaky stair, dash back up the stairs.

Éomer wondered for a moment what Charlie was doing at such a late hour. She could be doing something farm-related, since she had mentioned something about neglecting those duties, or perhaps doing some early investigation as to how they would return home. Of course, he swore that he had seen something bowl-shaped in her hand. She obviously was not planning to sleep anytime soon.

Curiosity bested him, and he slid the thin blanket from his body. He stretched for a moment, waking himself from the state of half-drowsiness. After a few bones cracked, he crossed the room and quietly ascended the stairs. Once he reached the top, he noticed light from under her now-closed door. He hesitated a moment, wondering if she had been so silent to be alone in her thoughts, but he knocked lightly on the door despite his doubts.

There was a ruffle of noise as bedcovers were tossed aside. A moment later, a shadow covered some of the light under the door as Charlie cracked open the door.

"Éomer, what are you doing up this late?" She asked quietly, resting her head against the doorframe.

"I would ask you the same thing. Would you like to talk?" He stared into her eyes, hoping to seem willing to listen.

She bit her lip slightly but noticeably as she broke her gaze with him for a moment. "About what?"

"About—" He began to point out what she so obviously avoided.

"Earlier," she interrupted, knowing her act of innocence wasn't about to work. "Alright, come in."

He stepped in as she opened the door the rest of the way, and she motioned for him to take the plush chair on the far side of the room. He wondered for a moment about her choice of sleepwear, which consisted of her usual shirt and a pair of shorts that bared most of her legs, if such things were acceptable in this world.

"So you want me to tell you this whole…conflict behind Lee and I." She curled herself under the bedspread, nudging a sleeping Duke with her toes as she picked at nonexistent threads with her fingernails.

He nodded, which caused her to sigh lightly. "Only if you wish."

"I guess you deserve to know the truth. All of this started back in high school, when Endi, Ryan, Lee, and I were in our last year. Lee and I were, obviously, going out." She noticed his puzzled look. "Similar to courting, but you don't always end up married. Anyways, we'd been together for awhile to the point where everyone thinks you will end up married. One night, we were all at Ryan and Endi's house, and Ryan and I were showing them how to do the tango—a type of dance…"

_Lee, his dark hair curly and almost fluffy, snaps a picture of Ryan and Charlie, their arms around the other's shoulders. Charlie, younger, leaner, her hair just falling to her shoulders, glares at him before rolling her eyes. She can't understand his love for photography, but isn't bothered by it much._

"_Okay, so it's like this?" Endi, a teenager almost identical to Charlie in build, but is slightly taller and has longer chestnut hair. She suddenly grabs Lee and begins to maneuver through the tango steps, which is obviously worse than the time before by the expressions on the other's faces._

_As she finishes a part, Charlie and Ryan exchange looks before falling on the couch in hysterical laughter. Lee steps away from her, glad that he had not signed up for Spanish class like they had. He continues to snap pictures of the other two, and of an irritated Endi, a look in her green eyes that scream that she is ready to hit someone._

_Later that night, Charlie is in her bedroom, which is dramatically different with a collage of music posters of various groups and singers. She finishes writing something in a spiral notebook, using the moon as her light, and tosses it towards a few school books in the nearby corner. There is a knock on the door, which startles her, and she calls for the person to come in._

"_Char, phone. It's Endi." Her mother hands over the cordless phone, leaving the room with an audible yawn._

"_Endi, what's up? Why are you calling so late?"_

"_Char, he's cheating on you." Her voice is oddly dark and deep, as if trying to keep this a secret._

"_What? No, he couldn't have…he wouldn't…" Charlie's voice cracks as a lump develops in her throat._

"_Ryan told me so. He went out to get more Pepsi, and he saw Lee making out with some girl outside the diner. He recognized her as some junior from his orchestra class. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this in person, but you needed to know."_

_The next morning is dreary, the dark clouds threatening to pour down buckets of rain. Charlie zips into the parking lot on her yellow sport motorcycle, dressed in her usual jeans and a black tank top. She coasts along the deserted aisle, watching as the oncoming car nears. Just as it begins to turn into a parking spot, she revs forward before sharply braking in front of the vehicle._

_The driver gets out. Lee slams the door shut, obviously confused and startled. "What the hell, Char?"_

_She yanks her helmet off as she dismounts, ready to throw it at him. "Don't you play all innocent with me, you bastard. Ryan and Endi told me what you were up to last night, after we were at their house."_

"_Char, Char, I can explain," he stutters, waving his hands in surrender as she advances on him angrily. Neither of them notices as a steady rain begins to fall, quickly soaking through their clothes._

"_Explain? BULLSHIT!" She shrieks, throwing the helmet at the ground. Younger students not far from the scene stride quickly towards the school. "You cheated on me! What the hell is wrong with you? We're OVER! I don't want you to ever talk to me again, you bastard!"_

_He is now pressed against the hood of the old car, Charlie ready to punch him. Lee quickly slides away and goes to the passenger side. He pulls something out and slides it across the hood to her. She catches the small package swiftly, glaring at him as she opens it._

"_It's a whole bunch of pictures from last night. What do you want me to do with these—burn them?" She asks snarkily._

"_If you tell people that we're over, I'll tell them that you broke up with me to be with Ryan. These pictures are proof." He holds up an identical folder, smirking devilishly._

_She stares at him with wide, frustrated eyes, rain plastering her hair around her face._

"…He's been using that to get back at me for ten years," Charlie finished quietly, tilting her head against the wall as if to hold back something.

"Why did you not tell people the truth after time had passed?" Éomer asked after a moment, amazed and infuriated by the story. He wished to meet the insufferable Lee again, just to hurt him for hurting Charlie years before.

"You don't know Lee like I do. Trust me; he's kept those pictures close to him for all this time. Besides, I live here alone, well, I _did_, and Ryan is one of the few friends that still live around here. I just haven't felt like upsetting the balance of some things."

* * *

*cough* Foreshadowing. *cough* Well, kinda.

Ahem, anyways…review please?


	10. Firecracker

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

Lucky number seven ain't so lucky for our duo…well, depends on how you look at it.

Thanks for beta-ing, Megan.

* * *

Chapter Ten: _Firecracker_

Silence reigned over the Manning farm with an iron fist, usual for an early Saturday morning. The bright flowers and well-groomed sago palms in front of the porch tossed in the continuous fall breezes, the sharp-bladed fronds scratching noisily against the wood porch railing. The fact that the inhabitants of the farm were silent seemed more appropriate, as they were still comfortably asleep in their beds. The sun was just appearing over the line of trees to the east, the fresh bright light slipping into every crevice of the front porch. Long shadows of the plants and chairs were cast against the faded, off-white paint of the house. All in all, it was looking to be a perfect day.

Out of the quiet green woods of the main road came a large black truck, a Chevrolet Tahoe by name. The license plate, the typical orange on the shape of the state, stated that its owner was from Miami-Dade County, no short distance to the farm. The SUV roared down the dirt driveway as if it were in the Daytona 500, leaving a thick cloud of dust in its wake. It reached its destination, the house, at an alarmingly quick pace. The normally shiny car was covered in dirt and small squashed bugs from its journey.

The engine was turned off just as the driver opened their door, the silence almost eerie after the loud noise. A young woman, appearing to be about the same age as Charlie, stepped out of the car in worn sneakers, impeccable black slacks, and a blue blouse. She was an inch or so taller than the farm owner, but had more muscle tone. Of course, this woman had not seen her friend for nearly two months, and knew nothing of what had been going on to know that Charlie was probably more muscular than her.

She turned to look at the house and muttered, "so much for early to bed and early to rise, Char." She shook her head at the thought of her still-slumbering friend and slid her sunglasses in her wavy brown locks that fell past her shoulders. She yanked a black object from her hip and tossed it in a bag, not wanting to look at her police badge for awhile. She hooked the bag over her shoulder and slammed the car door shut with her hip.

Her name was Endellion Brooks, and she was about to stir things up.

Éomer's eyes snapped open at the sharp sound. He searched the room for its source, but only found Charlie and her dog, both oblivious to the noise. "What was that?"

Charlie, curled up under her bedcovers, barely moved. "That was the sound of your own voice. After that, I don't know and don't give a damn. Now go back to sleep, I was up till three in the God forsaken morning," came the muffled, cranky answer.

He had been up that late also, but was not about to start a battle of wits with her so cranky. His eyes fell on the bowl he had seen her carrying the night before, the contents of it melted into a small pool, but decided to let her notice it. He stretched in the cozy chair that had become his bed, too awake to attempt anymore sleep.

"Wait," she began, wriggling her messy blonde head from the cocoon. "Isn't today Saturday?"

His blank stare did little to answer her question.

"The guys got paid yesterday, which means that was Friday. Shit, it's Endi!" She practically flew from the bed to the dresser.

He guessed she had inherited the ability to be incredibly vague from her mother because her father would talk endlessly to explain things. "Who's Endi?"

She continued to rifle through drawers, tossing clothes aside every few moments. "Endi's my best friend. Her real name's Endellion, but I suggest you don't call her that if you value your manhood."

He chuckled lightly, but only his smile lingered when he saw her serious look. She stared pointedly to emphasize what she had told him before returning to her search.

"Hey Char! It's Endi! You up yet?" A voice reverberated throughout the house as the front door slammed.

"Shit!" Charlie squeaked quietly, deciding the large shirt in her hand would suffice as a cover-up. She tugged it on, making her hair noticeably messier but hiding the wrinkled top she had slept in. She knew Endi would notice something, whether it was her hair, the fact that she was up with the sun, or the obvious look on her face that screamed she was hiding something.

"Éomer, get down! I'll try and get her outta here."

He stood from the chair but made no effort to hide. "You will not be able to keep us separated the entire time she stays. You cannot even keep your own men out of your house. Besides, I want to meet whoever can put such fear into you."

She stared at him, jaw slightly ajar. She stepped closer as she brought her fist up to playfully punch his shoulder. He grabbed her wrist to stop her before she even came close. She glared at his triumphant look and finally spoke.

"If you get down, I'll explain everything to her and then tell her about you. She'll just freak to no end if she sees you first. We got a deal?" She sighed with relief as he hid himself behind the bed.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs, causing Duke to look towards the door and let out a low bark.

"Duke, hush," Charlie muttered, quickly brushing her hair out.

"Yo, yo, yo, Charlie Manning!" Endi stepped into the doorway, smiling at her friend.

"Endi! Hey! Why didn't you call?" She asked as she hugged her friend. She stayed near the door, hoping to keep Éomer out of sight.

The brunette did one of her suggestive coughs as they parted, nodding towards the nightstand. Charlie turned and chuckled, seeing her phone still on the charger.

"Ah, well, things have been crazy around here." _That's the understatement of the year,_ she thought with a small smile.

"I'll say. You look more muscular. You only get biceps like that when you work a lot." She squeezed her friend's muscle playfully, furrowing her brow when she flinched sorely.

"Like I said, it's been crazy."

"Ryan told me that your power was out for a month. That had to suck."

"I truthfully didn't notice it all that much."

Endi snorted. "Bullshit, Char. You may be a country girl, but I remember you freaking out when y'all lost power for a few days and missing one of your favorite…" Her thought trailed off as she noticed something sticking out from under the foot of the bed.

Charlie gulped and prayed that it was just a book or something similar. She turned as her friend knelt down and pulled the object out. She bit her tongue nervously as Endi stared at her sheathed sword with saucer-sized eyes.

"What the hell, Char? Why do you have a sword?" She asked slowly, choosing her words carefully. Her spring green eyes watched her friend carefully, waiting to crack her like a suspect in one of her interrogations.

"It's…I…God, I don't even know where to begin." She laughed anxiously, causing Endi to raise an eyebrow skeptically.

"Try the beginning."

"Well, I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm from Rohan. That's my dad's sword."

Endi nearly dropped the sword. "Rohan. As in Middle Earth?"

"Yeah."

"That's…Are you losing your mind?" She yelped, throwing the sword down in frustration at her friend.

The sword smacked against Éomer's foot as it landed, and he grunted in a twinge of pain.

Charlie bit her lip and closed her eyes as Endi whipped around. "Come on out Éomer, whatever plan I had obviously failed."

He stood up, followed by Endi's amazed eyes.

"Holy shit," she whispered, walking over and poking his arm, as if to check if he was real.

"Endi, don't do that. He already had to deal with you-know-who last night; don't make him think all of my friends are insane."

"_I_ am insane, thank you. And don't you think the fact that a fic—"

"Don't use that word! I'm from the same place, dipstick!"

Endi glared, frustrated, trying to make sense of what was going on. She moved away from him and began to pace. "Don't you think this is all just a little bit, I don't know, crazy? I mean, he's not exactly accepted as a real person around here. The place that you're both from isn't accepted as completely real."

"End, do you think I accepted it at first? I'm stubborn, hard-headed—" Charlie stared at her friend seriously, trying to prove the entire idea to her.

"Contradicting, unpredictable," Endi interjected, smirking.

"Vengeful," Éomer added, remembering her story from the night before.

"Okay, we get it." She glared at both of them, not expecting or wanting backtalk. "But look, I'm accepting the fact that I'm from a completely different world, and I'm fine with it. So you better be, or get the hell outta here."

"Serious?" Endi furrowed her brow, uncertain whether she was serious or not. They had always been sarcastic, but her tone left her questioning.

"Dead serious. I'm from Rohan, he's from Rohan, and we're going back as soon as we figure out how."

She rolled her eyes, looking between the two. "So, you're from Rohan."

"That's what I said. You really need to get off this repeating everything I say." Charlie smirked, clearly happy that her best friend was willing to accept the facts.

"It's a good tactic for interrogation." She paused, waiting for someone else to speak. When the room stayed awkwardly silent, she moved to leave. "I'll go start breakfast. Come on, Duke."

The dog stared at her for a moment before leaping off of the bed and trotting downstairs. Endi looked at Charlie, the same look she had always known that meant she was going to be questioned later. She turned and walked out of the room, skipping down the stairs loudly.

Éomer waited until he could hear this new addition somewhere near the kitchen before he spoke. "Why did you tell her?"

Charlie looked at him quizzically, though her look could have meant that she thought he was crazy for asking such a question. "We've been friends since I came here. She, Ryan, and my—" she paused, about to say mother, knowing that she wasn't her real mother "—Sue, the woman who's been like a mother to me, are pretty much the only ones I really trust with secrets."

"And how do you know she will not tell others?" He was wary of Endi, who had so easily scared Charlie.

"She's a cop. She knows when to keep quiet about things. Éomer, do you have something against Endi?" She stepped towards him, her expression becoming one of suspicion.

He stared at her, not moving in case she would interpret it as a feeling. "No." He bent down and picked up the sword, handing it to her as he stood up. "Perhaps you should hide this elsewhere."

She took it with one hand, allowing her arm to drop to her side. He brushed past her as he left the room, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were suddenly in a jumble, as there was only one she could focus on. Why was he suddenly uncertain of her friends?

Why did he doubt her?

* * *

Slight _dun dun dun_…and some slight foreshadowing. If you can find it, cookies for you, just don't say anything.

Reviews would be lovely.


	11. Never Mind Me

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Johnny Schou, the Tickle Me Pink bassist who passed recently.

Danke shön, Megan.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: _Never Mind Me_

Charlie twirled a soda bottle cap between her fingers, lost in thought as she stared at the mid-morning light blue sky. Her feet slowly churned some of the water in the pool, creating small ripples in the otherwise glassy surface. The cement was hard and uncomfortable to her back, but she knew her shirt had probably found a way to cling to the rough surface. She had many swimsuits that had fuzz on them because of sitting on the concrete, and she knew her dark green shirt was destined to the same fate. But she wasn't about to sacrifice it to move a tiny bit and still be uncomfortable.

She finally placed the cap back on the nearly empty bottle, screwing it back on slowly, lost in her own thoughts. A cricket chirped somewhere nearby, slightly startling her from her mind. She crossed her arms over her stomach, tapping out the beat to a song on her side.

Why was Éomer suddenly suspicious of her friends? Sure, Endi could be intimidating and harsh with her words, but she always had good intentions. Her real name was defined as fiery, and she had lived up to that. But Endi had been her normal fun-loving, charismatic, witty self at breakfast, less sarcastic than usual because of him.

_Granted, the first person he met outside of the help was Lee. If I was him, I sure would be uneasy about other friends. And then he met Ryan, who does nothing but crack jokes when he's around someone he doesn't know._

_How do I become associated with the resident crazy people around here?_

"Charles Spaniel," Endi interrupted her thoughts.

Charlie looked over to see her friend sitting nearby, resting her feet on the first step in the shallow end, now in board shorts and one of her old hoodie jackets. "Endi the bendy. What's up?"

"Not much. Business has been usual—a few druggies here and there, people who think they can get away with something because of a supposed loophole. And what about you? Things certainly have to be different with…_him_ around." She pulled her hair away from her face, glancing at Charlie through her dark sunglasses.

"He has a name, End. What is it with you two? He's all suspicious of you, and you're waiting for an apocalypse or something."

"Well, God forbid you actually realize what could be going on. He's a fic—"

"I'm from the same place, and I'm one hundred percent real. I'm fearing that word, since we're…damn, I can't even explain it. Do you have your camera on you?"

"Yeah, why?" She pulled the small digital camera from her jacket pocket.

"I'll just show you." She pulled out the memory card and replaced it with one from her pocket. "Here, just watch this. Don't listen to anything, just pay close attention to us."

Endi furrowed her brow at her, clearly skeptical. She took the camera back, muted the sound, and watched the short video. She squinted, trying to determine something, then her eyes widened as she realized what had happened. "Oh my God…wow, I've never seen anything like that. Are you sure you just didn't drop the camera in water again?"

"I'm sure, dumbass." She had a feeling she would never live certain events down with friends like her. "I think he suspects something, but I'm not about to tell him. He wouldn't understand. But it kinda freaks me out, since this has never happened until now."

"I think you've broken about three or four laws of the Universe by now." Charlie lifted her sunglasses to glare at her. "My opinion? You know you're both from a world that's not really real, so since you're both technically not real, you're not really showing up on camera."

"That made no sense, I hope you realize that." She slid her glasses back on and looked back up at the sky. "I guess we should just focus on finding a way back then, before we possibly start disappearing for real."

"Do you have any idea where you're going to end up?" Endi asked after a moment of listening to songbirds chirp.

"I know Éomer said about they were searching for Théodred. So I get to be in all of the fun," she commented sarcastically. "Though, the same amount of time had passed in their world as in ours, so they might be thinking Éomer disappeared like I did by now."

"Have you told him anything?"

"You mean anything from the books and movies? Hell no, I don't want to change the course of anything. I figure a nudge in the right direction at the right moment won't spell disaster."

"I know you two have been together for the past month or whatever, but how are you two so chill with each other?"

"Before I came here, we were best friends." Endi now lifted her glasses to give her a look. "Oh don't give me that look, End. I've had these weird visions that show both of us really young and doing things together. I lost my father, my last family in the world, and just disappeared. And you should've seen how fast I've picked up on some things that I knew back then."

"So I guess now it's your time to go back," she said quietly after a moment.

They looked at each other for a moment, obviously wondering if they would ever see each other again. Though their sunglasses kept them from looking straight at each other, it was one of those things that came natural with their bond of friendship.

"Hey, you were dropped off at a fire station, with no birth record, only your name on a piece of paper. You never know, you could be from Middle Earth, too." Charlie smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Cute, Char. We can deal when the time comes." She lifted her foot from the water, looking at a small scar before lowering it. "Do you like him?"

Charlie rose up to lean back on her elbows and raised an eyebrow quizzically at Endi.

"It's just you and me. Come on, I'm not going to tell anyone. The only person I could tell would be Ryan, and he would think I'm losing what brain I do have left."

She simply shook her head, slightly grinning at her last remark.

"Char, I could sense the emotions at breakfast. I'm a detective, not some rookie cop. I saw those supposedly furtive glances."

She lowered her glasses some, looking at her like she had a screw or two loose.

"Don't give me that look, Charlotte Manning. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You two like each other, but don't know what to do about it since the situation is a degree or so more than insane."

She swung her feet out of the pool, grabbing the towel from the chair near her. She dried her feet off and slid on a pair of socks and reached for her boots.

"Fine, ignore me. You know I'm telling the truth."

"I never said you weren't. I like him, but more as a close friend. Besides, I'm going to be one of the Riders; I want to focus a little more on that before I dive into much else." _Okay, maybe more than a close friend, but it will keep her mouth shut for now._

"You mean you want to be in their version of the Army? Char, they only have guys in that. Look at what Éowyn had to do just to go to battle." She stood up and stepped out of the water, shaking a few droplets from her feet.

"I know, but," she sighed, choosing the right words. "I'm too much of a wild mustang to just be a housewife. Besides, I'm just as good a fighter as Éomer. And it was my real father's wish for me to be one. If I need to prove myself to them, I'll do it." Charlie stood up, stretching her back.

A few puffy clouds moved overhead, blocking the sun. They removed their sunglasses, walking towards the house. As they neared the door, Endi moved her hand as if to smack Charlie in the face, testing her reflexes. She caught it an inch or so from her face, glaring at her friend.

"Why?"

"No reason, just checking." She opened the door and they stepped inside the house.

Éomer came into the kitchen. He looked slightly distressed and was certainly sweaty, though he had been outside with his horse.

"Hey Éomer. I thought you were with the horses," Charlie greeted him, checking the house phone.

"Someone is coming. I heard his car coming from a distance." He watched them both with a serious expression, knowing who it was.

"The only person that could be heard that far off—" Endi began, only to be interrupted by Charlie.

"Lee," she breathed, pushing past Éomer in the doorway en route to the front door.

* * *

Yes, I know, I'm so evil for leaving y'all with a cliffhanger.

Reviews may make me write faster…


	12. Kerosene

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

* * *

Chapter Twelve: _Kerosene_

"Charlie!" Éomer and Endi called after her as she forcefully opened the front door. Their yell came too late, as she was fired up and ready to end what had started so many years before.

Charlie strode briskly and confidently down the steps and over to where Lee was getting out of the car. The breeze tugged at her loose ponytail, blowing a few strands loose. She ignored them, glaring at him through the hair.

"Char, hey. Look, listen—" Lee smiled slightly in greeting, placing his hand on the top of the faded car door. He looked marginally more polished than the last time she had seen him. His loose jacket and jeans looked freshly cleaned, and his jawbone was perfectly shaven.

"I don't want to hear it. Get back in that damn car and get the hell off my property," she told him darkly, not a glimmer of her earlier fun-loving attitude to be found in her expression.

"Char?" He furrowed his brow in confusion, having never seen this side of her.

She stepped forward some, practically pinning him between the car and the door. "You heard me. Leave before I call the cops. This is harassment, and I have witnesses—"

Footsteps clattered on the porch. Éomer looked ready to beat the unwanted ex-boyfriend within an inch of his life, but was obviously restraining himself. Endi, having had enough problems with him, went to the top of the steps and yelled at both of them.

"Charlie, forget him! He's not worth it!" She pleaded; ready to drag her back into the house.

"Hey! Not-So-Happy-Ending, why don't you go back to your big city and leave our business alone?" Lee snapped back, moving to close the car door.

"Well, someone's really matured," she muttered sarcastically. "Why don't you go crawl back in the hole you came out of and leave us all the hell alone?"

He began to retort, infuriated by the nosy friend.

"Will you two just shut up?" Charlie shrieked, pulling some of her hair from her ponytail in irritation. "Lee, get the hell outta here before someone gets hurt or the cops get called. Goodbye and good riddance." With those final words, she turned on heel and began to walk back to her two friends.

"Char," Lee started and shifted uncomfortably, "I still love you!"

Her foot froze on the first porch step. Her loose locks fell around her face, hiding the emotions gathering inside of her. Éomer watched her, wondering how she would react to such a statement. Love was not something joked about much in Middle Earth, people did not toss around the phrase as they saw fit. Love was a serious subject, something between a man and a woman that only they truly understood. Lee had just torn that idea to shreds in a heartbeat.

Endi shrieked, sounding similar to a dying animal, and leapt to attack Lee. Éomer grabbed her around the waist just as she launched herself into the air, holding back the furious brunette.

"Let me at 'im! I swear he won't bother us ever again!" She yelped, clawing at his arm and kicking her feet wildly.

_Alright, it's time to settle this once and for all. If he thinks he's seen hell, he ain't seen nothin' yet._ Charlie took one deep breath and turned around. Every muscle ached because she wanted to hurt him for tearing her emotions apart bit by bit. She dug her nails into her palms to prevent anything drastic.

One look at her, and he knew he was in for it. He could see that fire in her eyes, that same one she had years before in the school parking lot.

"You have some nerve to come out here and say that. You really think that after all this time of being tormented by your lies and the truth that I'd really take you back on a whim?"

He gulped, flattening himself as best as he could against the car. "I—"

"Don't even say anything."

"Char—"

"You cheated on me! You never even apologized for taking my heart and ripping it into shreds! You never once thought, much less _cared_, about my feelings!" She took a deep breath, realizing how loud and sharp her voice was. "And now you just randomly show up out here, asking for me to come back?"

He just stared at her with wide, stunned eyes, not wanting to say anything that could set her off.

"You're about ten years too late, dumbass. The fact that you blackmailed me, and of course we can't forget the cheating, will never, and I repeat, _never_ go away. The day you did all that to me was the day you became absolutely nothing to me. You're the worst person I have ever known in my entire life. I hope you burn in hell."

It seemed as if time stood still for a moment after she said those last words. Endi, who had dug her nails into Éomer's arm, stopped fighting against him and simply stared at Charlie. Éomer also watched her, surprised but also in awe of her ferocity. Sure, she could be angry when she wanted to be, but he would have never guessed she could have such an impact without even touching him.

"Char, wait—" Lee reached for her arm as she turned around.

She stopped and looked at his hand on her wrist. Her fingertips tingled from the rush of adrenaline from finally, after so many years, telling him off. But this last motion set off something she had been trying to keep under wraps.

In one swift turn on her toes, she whipped around and punched him in the cheek with all of the force in her left arm. Lee stumbled back, grabbing at his quickly swelling and reddening cheek. She looked at him with mixed emotions. He had brought this on himself; she was only reacting in what way she thought best. Sure, she felt slightly mean for sucker punching him, but it was just one more reason not to mess with her.

"Get the hell out of here," she demanded in a quiet, dark tone.

Lee gave her a confused look, holding onto his now bleeding cheek. He watched as Éomer let go of Endi and slowly, calmly walked over to them. Charlie, her glare still fixated on the man she had just hit, startled as Éomer stepped between them.

"Dude, please don't hit me. I swear to you, that bitch just broke the side of my face." Lee shrunk back against the car, practically cowering.

She tried to get past Éomer to attack him again. "Oh, you want a broken face? I can gladly provide that."

Éomer looked at her, his expression telling her to back off for a minute. He turned back to Lee, his face void of empathy. "I believe you should leave before you are hurt further."

"Why don't you go make sure your bitch girlfriend is okay?"

He grabbed him by the throat, applying just enough pressure to scare him. "I never want to hear you say that about Charlie again."

"Make me," he grumbled sarcastically.

Éomer let go of him dramatically, then wheeled back and punched him in the jaw on the opposite side that had been hurt.

Lee yelped in pain, falling to his knees to protect his face from further assault. "Now I don't want you back. You two were made for each other, if you don't beat the shit out of the other first. I'm outta here." He quickly got back into the car and scrambled to start it. He floored it in reverse, trying to get away from her before either of them could try to hit him again. Within a moment, he was back on the road from which he came. Charlie watched him carefully, emotions slowly washing over her.

A minute of complete silence passed. The crickets were silent, there wasn't the slightest breeze to rustle the bushes, even Endi tried to be as quiet as possible.

"Charlie, wow, that was…" Endi began to say, but her voice drifted off when she realized Charlie wasn't listening.

Without so much as a word, the young woman strode off to the barn and disappeared inside. A moment later, the sound of a small engine roared to life and Charlie zipped away on a yellow dirt bike, heading in the opposite direction of Lee, out towards the fields. Éomer watched her leave and moved to go after her, only Endi's words stopped him.

"Éomer, don't. Just let her be alone."

He stopped and stared out at the trees and tall grass, lost in hopes. He wished that she had never been sent from their world so she never would have had to suffer through any of this. She didn't deserve any of it, and there was no way he could have protected her from any of it.

* * *

The sun was almost set when Charlie suddenly appeared in the barn doorway. Dirt covered most of her clothing and body, a light smudge of earth on her cheek. She wheeled the dusty bike over next to a similar green one, focusing her attention on the kickstand. Éomer set down Firefoot's bridle on the saddle, cautiously stepping towards her.

She noticed him nearby and straightened up. It was obvious she had been crying; the slight puffiness under her eyes had yet to disappear. She gave him a half-hearted smile, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment. "It's fine. I'll be fine. Now that I finally gave him hell, I'm ready to forget he ever existed."

He smiled slightly, expecting more. Instead, she reached to grab her old sunglasses on the table. Just as she wrapped her fingers around it, she gasped loudly. She jerked her hand away, looking at her fingers carefully.

Éomer crossed the barn to her and gently took her wounded hand. Her knuckles were a deep red, slightly blue and purple in a few spots.

"I guess I hit Lee harder than I thought," she murmured with a light laugh.

"I believe they may have heard that blow you gave him in Rohan," he added with a smile.

"Your punch was pretty vicious, too." She laughed some more. After a moment, she spoke again. "It wasn't really necessary for you to step in, but thanks. If Endi had stepped in, we'd be in a world of trouble."

"We all have our own battles to fight. Sometimes, we need someone to help."

She was about to ask what his personal battle was, but then she remembered Grima. She felt sure that if she had to help Éomer somehow, they wouldn't have a problem. "Why don't we go get dinner? I know I'm starved."

Charlie felt that, finally, things were going to settle down a bit. Now they could fully focus on finding a way back to their home.

* * *

You have no idea how happy I am to be rid of him.

I noticed I have quite a few people who have this story on alert or have it on their favorites, yet I've had the same two people review on the past few chapters. I would love to hear from some of y'all who have me those two lists.

Review please?


	13. Ride

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

I'm so sorry that this chapter took ages to get to. I've been busy with a ton of other things, especially school. It seemed like every time I would plan on working on it, something would come up and I couldn't work on it. Reviews did urge me to work on it, but alas, life did not. But here it is, better late than never.

Now, down to business.

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Chapter Thirteen: _Ride_

The following day held an unbearably bright sun and scorching heat and humidity. A short, barely noticeable breeze would drift by every few minutes, providing some sense of relief before depriving one of any cooler air for an age. A few wisps of cloud hung towards the west, a faint line of dark storm clouds on the horizon behind them.

Those gray, miserable-looking clouds would arrive by dinner, Charlie knew. That was an infinitely long time from mid-morning, especially with the countless questions being hurled at her from her best friend and personal investigator. She was happy to be returning home for a moment, but knew she would miss driving Endi crazy when she refused to answer a question.

"I want my lawyer!" she exclaimed dramatically, a mischievous smirk gracing her lips.

Endi pursed her lips and glared indignantly. She turned her head forward, pretending as though her friend was nonexistent. Her horse, a black and white pinto named Sarge, snorted in Charlie's direction and refused to make eye contact with the blonde. His rider patted his neck thoughtfully.

"Okay, let's settle this the usual way. Let's race to the last fence post of this field and whoever loses has to answer all the questions truthfully or has to shut their face." At her statement, Bridget tossed her head happily, at which Charlie could only smile. "Bridget and I are game. What say you?"

Her friend glanced at her, tossing her dark locks over her shoulder, and sighed contemplatively. She opened her mouth, touched her tongue to her teeth, and closed her mouth again.

"Endi, we're burning daylight in which Éomer and I could be looking for a way back."

The detective looked over with a recognizable glint in her eye. She blinked once before she looked back ahead.

"Alright, I get it. You don't want me to go. But Endi, I wasn't born in this world. I was meant to only be here for a short time. If anything, I wasn't even meant to be in this world at all, but I don't know what happened seventeen years ago that made me appear here. If my father hadn't died, or at least if I hadn't run off on Éomer, you probably wouldn't even know me. We'd be living in two different worlds, without as much as a glimmer of a thought of someone who could be a best friend living in another land."

Endi glanced over, curious to know if Charlie was expecting a response. Her friend's expression begged her for a thought on the subject that was like the metaphorical elephant between them. "I get it, Char. But you're my best friend, and I do know you. It's just hard to accept the fact that you're from a world that everyone else thinks is completely imaginary. And it's even harder to believe that you're going back there and you're going to completely disappear from this world. Now, you two better get your asses moving or we're going to beat y'all."

Charlie and Bridget hesitated for a moment as Sarge bolted into a gallop. That was classic for Endi: she would reveal her thoughts on something unusually controversial between them, then quickly change the subject. She felt that she needed her friend's approval before she left, most likely forever, just so that she knew that she would be remembered favorably. Shaking her head in annoyance, she pressed her legs to Bridget's sides, dashing after them.

She tugged on the reins to keep clear of the dust cloud that Sarge was stirring up, but they were far enough behind that the cloud hovered over the entire road, and her efforts were futile. She ducked her head down to avoid most of the dust, hoping that Endi wouldn't try anything to sabotage her. They finally picked up some speed, catching up gradually to her friend. Just as Bridget's nose was equal with Sarge's hindquarters, Charlie noticed a glint of something shiny in the bushes on the wayside. She yanked on the reins, stopping the horse quickly, and turned Bridget around. She slid out of the saddle and commenced towards the silvery object nearly hidden in the grass. However, en route, she caught the toe of her boot in an inconspicuous hole and tumbled into the overgrown grass.

"Ow! Damn," she exclaimed, shaking her head to lose the woozy feeling. She flattened some of the grass around her, moving her arms to raise herself up. The silver object was nearly obscured just a few feet from where she lay. Stretching her hand out without a thought as to what it could be, she reached for the object that had caused her so much pain.

"Char! Wait! That's part of a sword!" Endi shrieked as she rode up and slid out of the saddle, worried about her friend that had so suddenly changed course and tumbled out of sight.

Charlie froze obediently, hoping she wasn't about to slice her hand open in her unwise decision. She slowly pulled her hand back and calmly rose to her feet as if nothing had happened. The fence post nearest her caught her eye, and she realized it was the same one she had kicked a rock at a year earlier, leaving a deep scratch on it. It was also the same post near where they had discovered Éomer.

Endi stepped down to her carefully, watching the glint of metal carefully.

"This is where Morgan and the boys found Éomer. It must be his," Charlie murmured, deep in thought.

"But he would have realized that he was missing a sword by now," Endi thought aloud, raising an eyebrow in skepticism.

Charlie looked at her, wondering why he hadn't mentioned anything. Carefully, she stepped toward the sword and flattened some of the grass surrounding it with her boots. "It's just a hilt. No wonder he didn't say anything. It's of no use."

The brunette sighed in relief. "Char, it won't bite you. Pick it up and let's go show it to him. I want to know what it is."

She furrowed her brow at the tarnished metal, feeling an unusual sensation tingling through her body abruptly. "End, get me a towel. I feel like if I touch it, something'll happen."

Her friend stared at her curiously, piecing the puzzle together. "If he appeared here, and this is here…what the hell, are we also in Harry Potter or somethin'? Tolkien never had portkeys."

"I really don't know anymore," Charlie murmured, studying the time-worn hilt. "Let's just get this back to Éomer and see what he has to say."

* * *

Éomer fed the last of the carrot to Firefoot, who happily gobbled up the snack. He turned as hoof beats approached rapidly, the intensity similar to when scouts would report back and there were orcs ahead. Charlie outdistanced her friend by several yards, and her startled-yet-determined look reminded him once again of the scouts with their news. Firefoot nudged his shoulder in hopes of another carrot, but Éomer ignored him, noticing that his old friend now carried something.

"Éomer! Come on!" Endi called to him as she and Sarge followed the other woman to the porch. She dismounted and strode after her friend to the table on the porch.

Curious as to what they discovered on their ride, he briskly walked from the barn doors to the house. He slowed upon reaching the steps, watching Charlie uncover the object that she had been carrying.

"Please tell me there is some sliver of a connection between this and you crossing worlds," Charlie said anxiously as he approached the table.

His thoughts flew into a jumble the second he laid his eyes on the ancient hilt, the blade broken off cleanly except for two small shards. He clearly remembered finding the curious artifact when he took a short walk the evening he disappeared. It had been hidden beneath a rock, the edge of the hilt barely visible in the fading sunset. He had picked it up in hopes of falling into good graces with one of the few historians, who had an obvious dislike for him when he had done nothing.

Éomer reached out to feel the rough grip, likely worn by years in the sometimes harsh elements. Instead, Charlie's hand caught his wrist, keeping him from touching it.

"Tell me." She stared at him, not daring to break eye contact.

"I found it the evening before I found myself here."

Charlie's jaw dropped open. She released her grip on his wrist, running her hand through her hair as she stared at the broken blade.

"What is it?" Éomer wondered.

She looked up at him in complete disbelief. "I think we're going home."

"Char, I used to be a Harry Potter junkie. Portkeys only work in one direction, they don't do round-trip," Endi interjected, hoping that they wouldn't get their hopes up too high to have them dashed to pieces.

"Endi, this isn't Harry Potter. This isn't a portkey. I don't know what it is, but its damn well worth a shot finding out if it'll get us back home."

* * *

Reviews would be lovely.


	14. All I Want to Do Is Turn the Page

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

If things seem worded a bit oddly, this chapter continuously fought me and never seemed to flow properly. Ah well, read and enjoy, my friends.

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Chapter Fourteen: _All I Want to Do is Turn the Page_

Charlie sighed heavily as she stared out of the window, Morgan's faded and dusty truck rolling slowly towards the house. A chill ran through her spine, causing her to pull her thin jacket tightly around herself, which she blamed on the cold front that had dropped the temperature dramatically. But she sensed that it also had something to do with the fact that her time was coming to an end. She flinched ever so noticeably as Duke whined.

"I know, Duke. This'll be the last time I look out this window. This'll be the last time I see Morgan. This will be the last time I see any of this." She gulped in hopes of pushing away the emotional lump in her throat.

A gusty breeze fluttered over the fields, rippling the yellowy-green grass like it was water. Beyond, the dark boughs of the tall, lean pine trees rustled, the entire trunk of the thinner trees shuddering. Despite the wind's direction and relentless gusting, puffy clouds still lingered on the western horizon. A few birds chirped in the distance, announcing that the sun was soon to rise. A few streaks of gold were winding across the otherwise indigo sky, signaling to Charlie that time was of the essence.

Duke moved his head so that he sighed heavily into her messy ponytail, waking her from her reverie.

"If I don't do it now, I'll regret never doing it," Charlie murmured to herself. She picked up the notebook to use as a writing surface, and the pen and paper beside her foot. She sighed in an attempt to clear her thoughts and hesitantly pressed the pen to the paper.

_Dearest Sue, my adoptive mother,_

_This will probably be hard for you to understand…but then again, maybe you'll understand perfectly. A few weeks ago, Morgan urgently called me out, very cryptic about what they had found, but rushing me like the world would end if I didn't get there in time. What they found was Éomer. Yes, Éomer as in the Third Marshal of the Mark from the legendary Lord of the Rings. The thing that is equally crazy is that Éomer revealed, in a manner of speaking, that I am Merides, a girl who was close friends with Éomer and his sister before she disappeared after the death of her father was reported. Those belongings of mine, which I found after reading the letter of yours I found, originally belonged to my father. If you can believe it, he wished for me to follow in his footsteps as a Rider of Rohan, simply because I had the spirit and skills to get there. So that is what I set out to do: return home and follow my spirit._

_By the time you read this, I'll be gallivanting across the plains on Rohan, most likely. You know me, I enjoy staying at home surrounded by comfort and familiar things, but I need freedom and fresh air to truly be alive. I know that women had their places in the home in Middle Earth, but…I feel that my destiny lies in following my father's path. Éomer has encouraged it thus far, training me in the skills that I nearly lost from years living on this earth, but I sense that he may not be for the idea after some time back in Middle Earth. My spirit can't be broken, and neither can my stubborn streak, once I've set my mind to something. I guess he'll simply have to accept that, or deal with me complaining until the end of time._

_Thank you wouldn't be enough to show my gratefulness for ending up with someone like you and Dad. You two have given me so much that I wouldn't have otherwise received. I'm well aware of my own strengths and weaknesses. I believe in my own dreams and don't let anyone tell me what to do. I'm going to keep on with that as long as I live. I would say that I hope to see you again one day, but it's gong to take a miracle to get there to begin with. You will live on in my heart._

_Forever your daughter in spirit,_

_Charlie aka Merides_

_PS: Feel free to steal my Nickelback album and listen to "Photograph" a few times._

She exhaled shakily, grappling to suppress her emotions. She refused to let them get the best of her. There was too much to do, and little time to let her emotions run themselves dry. She folded the letter up and wrote _Sue_ on it, placing the pen on the windowsill.

Knowing she was fighting the inevitable, she uncurled herself and stood up, sliding the letter under the base of the bedside light.

_One last look before you leave for good, Charlotte Merides Manning._ Brushing a stray lock of hair aside, she took in what was left of her room.

The cream bedspread laid smoothly over the sheets and pillows, only wrinkled where Duke lay on the bed. Her favorite chair was nearly hidden in the corner, a navy blue blanket tossed over it hastily. The top of the time-worn dresser contained only her rarely-used can of hairspray, some mascara, and her purse. She didn't foresee why she would need any of those objects, since they would be rendered otherwise useless, or make her seem like a witch of some sort. Her sheathed sword and dagger were propped against the side of the dresser, their shadows large on the wall. Only one book was missing out of her small bookcase. It was I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, and it was the one possession she wanted to hold on to forever, if she had to choose only one thing from her known life. The book was stashed away in her army green bag, which nearly blocked the doorway with its size. That bag was going to be her entire life for some time, as it contained many of her clothes (with which she had spent the better part of the night removing tags and anything she regarded as modern) and a few other personal belongings deemed necessary.

"Well Duke, I guess this is it." Charlie smoothed out her emerald green shirt as she placed the jacket beside the lazy hound, and made sure the zippers on her boots were well hidden from sight beneath her jeans. She crossed the small bedroom in a few strides and began to gather her new life to her. She cinched the sword belt tightly around her waist, and it slipped slightly to hang from her hips. Knowing it would never stay where she preferred it to be, she rolled her eyes and fastened the dagger belt across the heavy sword belt. She wrapped the dark green cloak around her arm and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"C'mon boy." Duke leapt from the bed and followed her like a shadow. Their steps were light and rhythmic as they descended the stairs. Charlie studied Endi's bags scattered across the living room sofa as she walked, remembering that her friend would make her self at home once given the chance.

She swallowed heavily to suppress the lump in her throat once again. She continued to the door, slowly turning the handle. _The rest of your life is waiting, girl. Get going._

Brisk fall air breezed past her as she opened the door. Duke slipped out ahead of her, nails clattering on the wood, and she followed him across the porch and down the steps to where Endi, Morgan, Éomer, and the horses were gathered. Endi rushed to her friend and flung her arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you're really going!" She exclaimed, voice quivering with emotion.

Charlie wriggled out of her grip after a moment. "I'm going, Endi. Back home."

"Promise me we'll see each other again some day," Endi murmured, rubbing her eyelid lightly as if she was simply brushing away a stray eyelash.

"End—"

"Char, I'm serious. We're the dynamic duo. If you ended up here for a time, maybe there's some way I'll end up there one day."

She smiled halfheartedly. Making the promise wouldn't hurt; since there was no way she could help Endi into Middle Earth after she returned. If she got there, it would be from sheer luck. "Okay Endi, you have a deal. But I refuse to bend any laws of the Universe for it."

Endi laughed, though it sounded similar to a choked sob. "There are always loopholes, especially for us stubborn, fiery ones."

"You know, I never expected a Manning to go out like this." Charlie looked over at Morgan, who had clearly stumbled out of bed without a thought to arriving in pajamas, his sleepy eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"What the hell you talkin' about, Morgan?" She questioned, smirking.

"This whole thing about changing worlds is something out of _Star Trek_. And I know that you never had any interest in science fiction. Now you're all for it. I knew you were always a little _different_, Charlotte, even though your mother was determined to beat the idea out of my head."

She rolled her eyes, chuckling, and stepped forward to embrace him in a tight hug.

"Take care, my little goofball," he murmured as he patted her back.

"I'll be fine, Morgan," she reassured him.

He sighed, smiling at her sorrowfully. He then noticed Éomer watching the scene silently, clearly anxious to return home. "And you, Lord Éomer, you take care of Charlie for us. If you don't, I'll personally come to Rohan and kick your ass."

Éomer raised an eyebrow inquisitively, puzzled by the sudden threat.

"Morgan, I'll be fine. I can handle myself. Leave him be," Charlie interjected before Éomer could formulate a response.

"I shall be sure to heed your warning, Master Morgan," Éomer responded, winking at Charlie. She simply rolled her eyes, wondering how she always managed to end up with sarcastic friends.

Bridget snorted and tossed her dark head anxiously. Firefoot continued to sniff at the ground, indifferent to those around him.

"Well, I guess we should be going," Charlie declared, shifting the bag on her shoulder. "Are you ready, my Lord?"

He raised an eyebrow quizzically, but realized she was poking fun at him. "I was ready quite some time ago."

She nodded and walked slowly to Bridget, stroking the mare's neck. After a moment, she hooked a foot in the stirrup and mounted gracefully. Éomer did the same, though did not hesitate for a heartbeat.

"I'll remember y'all forever," Charlie informed Morgan and Endi.

"We'll never forget you, Char," Endi responded as Morgan patted her shoulder comfortingly.

Charlie took her last glimpse at her two friends in the early morning light, and then turned Bridget towards the road into the fields, where Éomer was already heading with Firefoot, and trotted after him. She finally let one tear slip down her cheek, brushing it away with the back of her hand. After that, she nudged the mare to catch up to the Marshal, who was now her only friend and ally.


	15. Til the Sun Comes Up

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: _'Til the Sun Comes Up_

Charlie watched the ancient hilt carefully, almost as if it would disappear if she looked away. Thoughts raced around in her head, slowly overwhelming her senses as she focused more on them and less on her surroundings. The whole concept of the hilt taking them back to Rohan was sketchy at best.

"Charlie," Éomer began, pausing to choose his words. "What distresses you? Do you miss them already?"

She finally tore her eyes away from the fallen log where the hilt lay. Refolding her arms across her chest, she looked at him halfheartedly with a scowl gracing her lips. A lock of hair fell over one eye. "What do you think?"

He stopped adjusting the girth strap of Firefoot's saddle and walked to her. With a lighthearted smile, he responded, "Perhaps you will see them again one day. And you will be accepted by the people, I'm sure."

Charlie blinked, searching for any reason to doubt his words. After studying her face for a moment, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. She froze for an instant, startled, then unfolded her arms to hug him in return. She noticed that his armor smelled of sweat, horses, and another smell she couldn't quite place but somehow brought her a moment of comfort. But for the brief moment in his rugged arms, she nearly forgot about her troubles and thoughts. Though she had to wonder what he meant by being "accepted by the people," as if they would be married.

"So," she began as they parted, "What do you think we should do first? Or try, at the very least."

Éomer studied her face for a few seconds as his hands lingered on her shoulders, eventually finding a slight hint of cheerfulness in her expression. "Well…what do you suggest?"

She let out a sigh and took a few steps towards the hilt. "Perhaps…what did you think of when you picked it up?" Her eyes remained on it for a bit before turning back to him with newfound curiosity.

"You and your father." Her brow furrowed inquisitively. "The hilt looks much like that of your father's sword, but worn by years of laying in the elements. Then I remembered Háma, one of the Riders, delivering some of his possessions to you. Your father was not buried with his sword, and so I thought it was his. I had to wonder if you were still alive, if you had made it all that way and lost it. As I went to sleep that night, I wondered what you might have looked like by now. What our lives would be like."

She studied his dark eyes, thinking the idea over. Once again he had alluded to a life together, making it quite clear that he had missed her. But there were more pressing matters at hand. "So you thought of me, and you ended up here."

His eyes widened as he understood what she meant. "If we think of my men, perhaps we will return to them."

With one hand, she absently wound Bridget's reins around her other hand. "It's worth a shot." She picked up the hilt and held it out towards him.

Éomer picked Firefoot's reins and joined her with the broken blade. He tentatively wrapped his hand around hers on the grip, his large rough fingers rubbing against her slender yet equally calloused ones. His fingertips rubbed over her ring and felt the etchings absently.

"Are you thinking of Rohan?" She wondered after a minute of deafening silence.

"Do you want me to describe where we camped to you?" He smiled at her clever way of asking for help.

"Go for it." Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind of the thoughts of how much she was just going to miss her old life. But no matter how much she would miss them, she knew that there was no turning back.

He also closed his eyes to visualize the landscape of his home and his camp. "I see…rolling hills of tall grass, as far as the eye can see. Large black rocks are scattered throughout, but we camped near the trees along the Isen…"

She remembered it vividly from the movie. Aragorn and his companions ran across her mind, bounding about the hills and rocks as they tracked the hobbits and their captors. Éomer and his men arrived at the fords in search of Théodred, surrounded by dense trees and shrubs. Caught up in those recollections and her own hazy memories, she would never recall dozing off.

* * *

"My Lord Éomer! Are you near?" A shrill male voice rang out in the cool morning air.

Éomer stirred at the sound of his name. As he awoke, he realized that he lay on a grassy hill, the rising sun unblocked by trees and lighting up the fluffy clouds that dotted the sky. He sat up quickly, amazed to find that he was back in Rohan, his beloved home. But how long had they been gone?

"I have found him! He's over here!" The voice called once again, though it seemed distant.

He turned to search for the source of the voice. He found Magorinc, one of his more loudmouthed Riders, who now jogged down the hill to him in full gear. A moment later, a few other Riders appeared at the crest of the hill and followed him the moment they lay eyes on Firefoot munching on grass.

"My Lord, we went to your tent to deliver one of the scout's reports and saw you were gone. Are you well?" Magorinc wondered in his gravelly voice as he approached and knelt beside Éomer. His blue eyes studied him, curious as to why he was asleep in the in grass when his tent was on the other side of the hill.

"I am fine. Where is Charlie?" he questioned without even a thought to if they had encountered her. "How long have I been gone?"

The other men had gathered behind the young Rider and all looked between each other quizzically. Magorinc looked to them in curiosity before he returned his gaze to his Marshal. "My lord, who do you speak of? And you haven't gone anywhere."

Éomer looked around, searching for any trace of his companion. Several yards away, he spotted Bridget lying in the tall grass, sniffing the unfamiliar ground curiously. He leapt deftly to his feet and strode over. Charlie lay on her side near her horse with her back to the both of them, the reins still loosely curled in her hand. He knelt beside her, hesitant to wake her. With gentle hands, he slowly rolled her over, supporting the back of her head with his hand. She looked so peaceful, oblivious to the fact that she was home.

The Riders followed him curiously when they realized they had a new companion. They gathered around their Marshal and watched as her eyelids fluttered with consciousness. Within a minute, she slowly opened her dark eyes.

"Éomer," she breathed, focusing her eyes on his concerned face.

"We did it. We're home."

She furrowed her brow for a moment before realizing what he meant. Her hair fluttered about her as she sat up without haste. She took in the seemingly familiar landscape with wide eyes before turning her elated look to him. "We made it. Now tell me, who are they?"

He looked over his shoulder at the handful of inquisitive Riders and pulled her to her feet. They murmured a few things amongst each other, watching their lord and his new friend as she brushed herself off. Not only did her inexplicable presence intrigue them, but Éomer's hand that lingered on her waist made them question just how they had not met someone he was clearly close to. He turned towards them a moment later, capturing their complete attention, and motioned to them as he introduced him.

"Charlie, I would like you to meet Magorinc, one of my best advisors." The man, albeit covered in a fine sheen of dirt, seemed to brighten at the compliment. "This is Folcwine, the only scout I know that could track a boar from week-old tracks."

The dark-haired teenager, a grim scowl set upon his thin lips, simply nodded at her from beneath his large helm.

"And these two ugly brutes are Hilderinc and Stapa. They have been my good friends for many long years." Éomer smiled at the two men nearest him, the shorter bending to pick up the reins to Firefoot who had been watching them suspiciously.

Stapa and Hilderinc, with their sleepy smiles and long noses, looked between their Marshal and this new face. The two looked much like twins, though Stapa was taller and had red-gold curls while his brother's hair was much straighter and a mousy brown color. But with their strong builds and sharp cheekbones beneath large green eyes, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Too many years," exclaimed Stapa as he removed his helm. "Éomer, you're so generous to find me a female companion."

Charlie smiled uneasily as he winked at her playfully. Éomer's hand that lingered on her waist tightened slightly.

"And you are delusional to think I would do such a thing," Éomer replied with an unamused expression. "Do you remember a girl named M—"

Without a beat of hesitation, she quickly slapped a hand over his mouth before he had a chance to reveal the name. Stapa widened his eyes at how close she stood to him, much closer than he had seen any other woman. And yet she seemed unfazed by it, distress in her eyes with no other emotion obvious. Even his own sister had never been so brash with him, and he had seen them get into fierce arguments every so often.

"How do you want to explain the reappearance of a girl that supposedly died? I know you want bragging rights, but this probably isn't the best time. Being Charlie the warrior seems far simpler than trying to explain that I'm formerly Merides and have been living in another world for all these years." Her eyes seemed to want to bore holes into his own, anxiety obvious to him as she pleaded with him in a low tone.

He studied her face for a moment, noticing the sudden distress that had quickly taken over the happiness she had from their arrival. He reached up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, but saw both Stapa and Hilderinc watching them curiously. He quickly moved his hand and acted as if he was brushing his own hair away from his eyes. With an understanding nod at her, he turned to his own men.

"Have any of the scouts determined where Théodred and his men went?"

As Folcwine began to report what he and the others had found, Charlie hardly listened. She was more focused on the certain feeling of awe and terror that coursed its way through her senses. She knew everything that was to happen, and the thought of being present and able to have an effect frightened her. Suddenly this did not seem as fun as she and Endi had imagined it.

"Charlie, come on!" Éomer stood near the crest of the hill, surrounded by his men, standing to look back at her in anticipation.

The men began to walk back up the hill to where their camp sat. She watched them for a moment, questioning if this was where her path ahead truly lay. But fate would not have let them back together if she was not to be there, so with curiosity filling her thoughts, she tugged Bridget to her hooves and they followed them up the hill.

* * *

Thanks to my lovely beta Megan for sticking with me after all this time. I'm super sorry to all of my readers for taking ages to upload a new chapter, but I think we all know that life can be spontaneously hectic and know how a lack of inspiration can be.


	16. Used to the Pain

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

My apologies for disappearing once again, but I hit a brick wall with this chapter for the longest time before I finally found a good way to go with it. So it's slightly longer to make up for lost time, and we finally get to the first movie scene, yay! Enjoy y'all!

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Chapter Sixteen: _Used to the Pain_

Charlie had not expected her return to Rohan and adventuring with Éomer to be a walk in the park, but she had been hoping for a less painful start. She had always loved riding as much as Bridget loved galloping across fields, but a whole day's worth of travel made them want to reconsider what they had gotten into. There was no turning back, of course, which made them all the more cranky as the day wore on. Being stubborn with Éomer had had little effect yet and she doubted that would change now that they were with his Riders.

Sunset could not come soon enough, it seemed. They had stopped plenty of times during the day to allow Folcwine and the others to track ahead, as their tracks had been muddled by a small storm that had passed through overnight. But those brief stops could only do so much to heal the pain brought on by hours in the saddle. She would consider herself lucky to not have bruises and sores in the end.

Sometime around midafternoon, Éomer trotted to her side during one of their halts. She had dismounted to stretch her legs as Bridget grazed. With the reins underfoot before her horse got any bright ideas, she pulled the saddle's girth loose to make her more comfortable during their stop.

"Charlie," he greeted gruffly. She looked quite at home in his spare green cloak, he noted. "How do you fare?"

She shot him a look as she looped the girth strap back through a buckle so it did not dangle and give Bridget a chance to sabotage her saddle. As she patted the strap into place reassuringly, she turned to face him with a scowl of indifference on her face. "I'm alright." Without another word, she turned back to run her fingers over the cracks in the leather where it had spent too much time bent. She distracted herself with the thought of how long the strap would hold out on her, pretending to ignore his presence.

He stared at her, unsure if her curt reply meant she was simply cranky or was somehow annoyed with him. When she did not even glance at him, he sighed and nudged his horse to plod onwards.

Hand still resting on the leather strap, she watched the retreating forms of Éomer and Firefoot over her shoulder. She was unsure of what to think, what reasoning he had to go from being her closest friend back home to now hardly acknowledging her. Stapa had spoken with her a few times, curious about her knowledge of horses, so clearly she was not seen as a burden. _At least to Stapa, for whatever that is worth._ With a pat on Bridget's neck, she spoke quietly to her horse. "Stupid boys. Am I right, girl?"

Bridget nudged her chin playfully with her velvet nose, whickering when her rider laughed. After a moment, she pricked her ears and looked over the young woman's shoulder.

"You are Charlie?"

She turned to look at the young man that stood a few feet away, his horse nibbling at the grass behind him. He was slightly taller than her, with hesitant brown eyes and dirty black-brown hair to his shoulders. He smiled slightly, bringing new light to his unwashed face. He would have been more attractive if he had a bath more than once a fortnight.

"I am."

He studied her for a moment, wondering where she had gotten such clothing that he had never seen the likes of. "You look like a lady of Rohan, yet you do not speak like any of us." It was clear by his expression that he had so many questions for her, only stopped by courtesy. A mysterious woman that could command such respect from Éomer was someone to treat with the same deference as their lord.

"This was home, long ago. Things happened and I couldn't come back for some time." She ran her hand over her horse's mane, her fingers pulling a few tangles loose. Her gaze finally returned to him studiously and he could see why Éomer was taken with her. She was almost as beautiful as Éowyn, especially with that little glint of determination in her dark eyes.

He had to be no more than eighteen, by her guess. There was still boyishness to his face though there was a strength about him that attested to all the hardships he had faced. "You have been fortunate enough to return, though."

She smiled slightly. Fortune was an interesting choice of words, all things considered. "I feel like I'm back where I belong. What is your name?"

"Freawine." He took notice of her sword as her hand idly rested on the hilt. "Your sword, my lady, may I see it?"

As she handed the blade to him, she informed him that it had been her father's once. Her gaze watched him carefully as he gave the sword a few light swings to test its balance. When he finally handed it back to her, he blushed slightly as if embarrassed by a show of his skill.

"That is a fine blade. Your father must have been a great warrior to own such a weapon."

"He rode with Éomer's father." She sheathed the sword in one smooth motion. "How could you tell?"

"My father is a blacksmith." He continued when she looked at him with newfound interest. "A sword as fine as that one was likely a gift. Many of our swords are not so well-crafted. My lady, may I ask a question?"

A wry smile played at her lips. "You just did. What's on your mind?"

"Since you carry your father's sword at your side…does Lord Éomer intend for you to ride with us?"

She glanced over at Éomer, who was awaiting the return of Folcwine as the scout raced back towards them. "Yes. And if he has any intentions of leaving me somewhere, well, that's just not happening."

There was a shout for everyone to mount up with the scout's return. Freawine looked at her curiously for a moment as she cinched up the girth of the saddle and swung onto her horse with grace despite her pain. She was certainly an interesting woman, stronger than any woman of Rohan was expected to be. Lord Éomer would most definitely have his work cut out for him if he had plans other than what she willed.

* * *

The sun had finally set little more than hour earlier and everyone had settled down for the evening. The scouts were sure they were not far behind the king's son and despite the general exhaustion, there was a certain energy among the group to get an early start. Charlie, quite sick of her saddle and desperate for a long run followed by an ice bath for her legs, went off hunting like a few of the other men to catch a bit of game for dinner. It had been a long while since she had gone hunting in the moonlit twilight but it was something she had never known she had missed. She was already looking forward to doing it more often once the war was over, with or without Éomer.

The game to hunt was few and far between, but Charlie managed to land herself with a fairly plump rabbit. It was not much eating for two people, but once Freawine dug up some small apples in one of his bags, they had themselves a decent dinner to fill their bellies. With a small warm fire crackling before them, they enjoyed their meal and some conversation. The other Riders left them to their food until Éomer sent one of his men to their fireside. Freawine was the first to notice Hilderinc as he approached them and pretended to pay him no mind until he reached them. He finally got their full attention when he pulled a small bedroll from the folds of his cloak and placed it beside Charlie, who looked up at him questioningly.

"Courtesy of Lord Éomer," he informed them when he noticed her expression. "My lord also wishes that I inquire as to how you are doing, milady."

"Fine." Looking away from him, she sunk her teeth into a fresh piece of meat hungrily.

A smile played at his lips amusedly. "He thought that would be your reply and told me to march you straight to him if that was the case." His brother wished to keep her around for her beauty, but he hoped she would stay with them just to see how crazy Éomer would be driven.

She glared at him, wishing to finish her dinner in peace. "You can tell our beloved Lord Éomer that he can march his royal self over here if he wishes to have words. I already have a few choice ones picked out for him."

The captain did his best not to laugh at her reply. _Lover's quarrels, if I'm not mistaken. Stapa will be most disappointed_. "I will give him your message."

The duo watched with bated breath as the man wandered back through the campfires hastily to where Éomer was gathered with Stapa and the scouts over their dinner. The lord looked to him as he reported back and his gaze quickly turned on Charlie and Freawine with the captain's words. He thrust the map he was holding into Hilderinc's hands abruptly and then strode towards her with renewed intensity. Even from a distance, she could tell that he was glowering at her with those hazel eyes and she turned back to her dinner unaffectedly.

He came to a stop hardly a foot short of where she sat and glared down at her. "I need to speak with you."

She took another bite of her piece of flank and cast a glance at Freawine, who was trying to maintain his composure and not laugh at the current predicament. It was impossible to not notice the lord's tone of frustration, but she chose to disregard it. No one, not even him, could ignore her and then order her around. "I'm eating."

"_Now._"

With a huff, she tossed the half-clean bone down on the plate she had been sharing with the other man and stood. "Excuse us, Freawine."

Before the young man could even respond, Éomer had grabbed her by the arm and was marching her away from the camp to talk in private. It was not until they were out of earshot of the last campfire that he spoke. There was a newfound softness to his tone and expression, as if his demanding was all for show.

"I could use a little more cooperation from you." He looked at her expectantly.

"Cooperation?" she echoed with a little chuckle. "You haven't asked me to do a thing! I haven't felt a bit useful since we got back. You know I can track and you know I can tend horses. And if you're referring to your orders to Hilderinc to march me to your royal lordliness, there are better ways to have a conversation with me than to use force."

His nostrils flared in agitation and she knew she was pushing his buttons right then. "I do not wish to see you injured. All I ask is that you follow my orders."

A muscle in her jaw twitched in annoyance. "Éomer—"

"Do not give me reason to leave you in the first village we come to."

A smirk crossed her lips. "You wouldn't dare."

He glanced away at the men and looked back at her, with what she could have sworn was a slight blush creeping onto his face. "If it meant you would not come to harm, I would." He reached up to brush some hair from her face and allowed his calloused hand to linger against her cheek. "We can talk further when we find Théodred and return to Edoras."

She finally smiled slightly, never expecting the gentle touch. "Just one request, my lord."

He tried to suppress a smile. "I will hear it, if you call me Éomer."

"If you are going to give me any orders, a little politeness will go a long way." When he looked at her curiously, she grinned. "Considering most of the men only see me as a fair damsel, asking if I can do things will hardly seem suspicious."

He finally let his hand slip away from her face and gave her a curt nod of understanding. "You should return to your dinner before it gets cold."

With one last smile at him, she patted his arm thoughtfully and strode back towards the campsite. He listened to her footfalls crunch away through the grass for a moment before he turned and followed her. A few of the men watched them both inquisitively and Éomer realized that there was no time for affection. There was a kingdom to protect, evil to be defeated. They had spent nearly two decades separated, a little while longer could not spell disaster for their friendship. She of all people would understand that.

* * *

The whole camp was up with the sun the next morning, everyone saddling and packing while attempting to scrounge together enough food to call it breakfast. The scouts had set out at first light to cover as much distance as possible before some ominous-looking grey clouds set in on them. Bridget did not seem thrilled in the slightest to have a saddle on her back once more, but Charlie reassured her that the fords of Isen and Edoras were not far away.

To say she was distracted was an understatement. In a matter of hours, she would be living out the movie. Not even in her wildest dreams could this have happened yet here she was, mounted on her appaloosa and armed with her father's sword. The wind whipped her cloak around them and threatened to pull the hood from her head but her focus was on the storm clouds that they were undoubtedly going to meet. Freawine trotted to her side and hoped that they would not get stuck in the rain, but she replied with a chuckle that being in a hurry would mean they would get the worst of it.

It was mid-morning when they tracked their way to the fords, though it was impossible to tell how late it was once the rain set in. All of them were soaked through to the skin and wanted nothing more than to return to Edoras and sit in front of some nice warm fires. Charlie wanted this more than anything, since the cool weather of Rohan felt more like winter to her than spring.

In the downpour, they plodded to a stop at the narrow crossing of the fords. The men were all despaired to see the massive slaughter of horses and men and orcs. The prince had set out with a sizable force at his back, but now that strength lay dead along the riverbanks. Silence set in around them as everyone took in the sight, the only noise from the rain bouncing off of their shields and armor as even the horses went quiet.

"Find the king's son!" Éomer called out.

Freawine stayed with the horses since his stout little gelding was skittish with the smell of blood and the awful lingering stench of the orcs. Charlie was also content to stay, but one look from Bridget told her she needed to see this massacre for herself if she was to follow in her father's footsteps.

She was glad for a strong stomach as she made her way along the water, trailing after some of the men as they searched for Théodred. It still made her heart ache when she looked on the faces of the fallen Riders, the fear and anguish still carved into their expressions. All of them had left behind families, wives, friends and so many of those would hope that they were still alive by some stroke of fate until they returned with the prince. She began to wonder about her own destiny when one of the men called out.

"My lord Éomer, over here!"

Éomer jogged his way through the corpses to where two of the men lingered over a body. It was a matter of seconds before they picked him up and began carrying him back to shore where everyone else had gathered to wait. They moved as quickly as they could without jostling the injured Théodred too much, clearly wishing they had a stretcher. Once they were safely under some trees, two of the men began checking his wounds. Éomer turned and gestured for her to join them.

The worry was evident in his eyes when she stopped at his side. "Is there anything you can do for him?"

She pulled the hood of her cloak from her face and knelt at the prince's side. He seemed mostly unscathed, a few minor cuts and bruises where armor could not protect him but he had one deep wound to his abdomen. Dried blood made it nearly impossible to tell how bad it truly was. She prodded at it gently and knew there was little she could do without plenty of bandages and the help of modern medicine. With the most hopeful expression she could manage, she looked up at Éomer. "Get me some bandages or some clean cloth. Dry, if you can find it."

One of the men dashed off to the horses at his command and returned momentarily with a small leather satchel. Éomer knelt at her side to hand her the bag and clenched his jaw tightly at the sight of the nearly fatal wound. "Will he live?"

She did not even cast a glance at him as she tore off bits of cloth from a roll and placed it gently on the wound. "I'm no doctor, Éomer. He needs a lot more than what I can do for him, and soon." She was no MacGyver when it came to patching up wounds in a pinch, especially when she had no knowledge of any herbs or plants that could help and nothing but bandages and a salve for burns in their medicine kit. This was a losing battle, no thanks to the gods that had sent her to another world.

He sighed and watched her firmly wrap up the wound to save it from further harm. As soon as she was done, they loaded him onto Éomer's horse and everyone mounted up to ride out.

Freawine noticed her gloomy expression as she took Bridget from him and thought little of it. None of them were at ease when they could do little for someone in pain, no matter if that person were the prince or the lowliest of the Riders. Charlie, however, was frustrated not only because she could not do more for Théodred but because she had to live with the secrets of everything that was going to happen, good, bad, and ugly as they were. Maybe it may have been easier if she had never left, had never gotten to know what was to pass. But until the war was over, she would have to get used to the pain.


	17. Running Out of Time

Disclaimer: I only own the OC's, no more, no less. LOTR belongs to Tolkien's estate.

Here's another chapter, much sooner than I had expected to have one written. No promises on when I might post the next one since I'm starting my last semester, but hopefully soon. Enjoy and please review!

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Chapter Seventeen: Running Out of Time

Charlie had expected a much longer ride to Edoras, but it was not long past mid-day when they reached the gates of the city in all of their haste. She was shocked at how big the capital was upon their approach, the homes and stables and gardens sprawling over the hill to meet them at the foot of it. She got little time to take in what was going to be her new home as they trotted up the hill to the Golden Hall of Meduseld. One of the men had gone ahead so that there was a stretcher waiting for the wounded prince as soon as they reached the steps to the hall.

She had just got her feet on the ground when Éomer called for her to follow them. She saw his anxious gaze for only a brief second before he turned and followed the men up the hill with his cousin. With a sigh, she turned and handed the reins of her horse to Stapa.

"You don't need to do much other than unsaddle her. I can take care of her shortly." With an uncertain expression, she gave Bridget a gentle pat and began to follow after her lord before his words gave her pause.

Stapa gave the mare a gentle rub on her nose. "You need not worry, my lady. You two are in the home of the horse lords. This pretty girl will be treated just as well as yourself, if not better." He smiled at her reassuringly as her horse snuffled his armor. "Go, help the prince."

She smiled slightly and jogged onwards and up the stairs. Her cloak caught in the breeze and floated along behind her as she made her way to the hall. It was even more beautiful than it had appeared in the movies, the swirling Celtic designs along the columns decorated with rich colors and the royal banners with the same running horse as the ring she wore. Fighting off the urge to simply stop and take everything in, she walked straight past the guards and strode after Éomer and the stretcher-bound prince.

Grima and King Théoden lingered in the dim light that surrounded the throne. She felt her breath catch for a moment when she laid eyes on them as she moved along the side wall, keeping the columns and banquet tables between them. They were both darkly dressed and sickly pale, a combination that seemed even more malevolent with the feeling of an unseen force that watched her every move. The greasy advisor watched her with inquisitive blue eyes and briefly met her gaze before she turned her attention to the hallway.

A middle-aged woman in her loose garnet dress was digging through a cabinet in search of supplies to help the prince when Charlie finally found their infirmary. The men had just lifted Théodred onto the bed as gently as they could manage and now filed out after she entered.

"I'll need all that armor off, Lord Éomer," the healer commented when she glanced over her shoulder and through her salt-and-pepper hair. "Ah, I see you've brought me an assistant."

Charlie removed her cloak and weapons and left them on a chair in the corner, suddenly feeling small and lean as she went to help Éomer remove his cousin's armor. They unbuckled as many snaps and buckles as they could find with nimble fingers. With only the slightest glances at each other, they moved in tandem to free him from his armor as smoothly as they could manage with his limp body.

Once they had gotten him free of his chainmail and padding, the healer ushered Éomer out of the way and glanced up at Charlie. She did a double take, suspicion in her green-grey eyes, but she quickly dismissed it. "Do you have much experience at healing, girl?"

"Not much, but I learn quickly."

"Good answer." She pulled his shirt away and paused for a moment when she saw the makeshift bandage. "This is a fine dressing, all things considered. Which of your men has been working on his field medicine, Lord Éomer?" Without waiting for an answer, she gently began peeling it away from the gash.

He met Charlie's gaze when she looked between the two of them and looked at her gratefully. "That would be the work of the woman across from you."

"And does this woman have a name?"

"Charlie," she answered, watching her for any more suspicion.

"Well Charlie, get that bowl over there on the cabinet and fill it with some water from the pitcher."

She did as she was told, carrying the metal bowl back over to the bedside. The healer pulled the last piece of dressing from his wound and dipped a fresh piece of cloth into the water. Her focus went to the wound as she began to clean it of the blood and bits of dirt that had found its way under the bandage.

Éomer sighed deeply and left the room for a moment. Charlie watched him curiously but soon turned her attention back to the healer when she spoke to her.

"You have a strange accent for a lady of Rohan," the healer commented thoughtfully. She cast only the slightest puzzling glance to her as she worked.

A smile played at her lips. "I left Rohan for many long years. I have only just now had the fortune to return."

"Fortune." She snorted, almost amused. "Fortune to return to a kingdom ruled by a man possessed and the wizard's snake at his side. I pray every day that someone will come to our aid, but it appears that our luck is running thin, now with Prince Théodred so badly wounded. There is little I can do for these wounds."

Éomer had just returned to the room but had not heard her final words. Charlie dared not let the discontent show on her face despite all the nervous energy. The healer picked up a small jar of a smelly green salve and gently rubbed it into the wound. Once she was done, she looked up at the young woman and picked up the bowl that was now tinged red with blood.

"How is your needlework?" When she simply received a confused expression, she continued. "Stitch this up the best you can. My hands are not as nimble as they once were." As the young woman moved around to her side to begin stitching up his wound, the healer stood and looked at Éomer grimly. "I will not lie to you, my lord. There is little to be done for his wounds and I have done all that I can. All we can do is hope for the best. Shall I go tell the Lady Éowyn of his wounds?"

"I have already sent for her. Thank you, Lind." Hardly acknowledging her further as she returned to the cabinet, he collapsed into the chair at the prince's bedside.

Charlie poured a bit of water over her hands to rinse them clean as soon as she had finished stitching him up. As she dried her hands on a spare towel, she turned and froze when she saw Éomer's clear anxiety. She so wanted to comfort him in that moment but before she could even contemplate what she could say or do, Éowyn swept into the room in her beautiful deep emerald green dress.

Without even the slightest glance at the healer, she quietly gathered up her belongings and stepped out into the hall. She could vaguely recall meeting the prince once or twice when she was young and that he was just as lively and bold as his cousin. That had been years ago now, when she was still considered family. It was impossible not to glance at them through the doorway a few times. With a heavy heart, she sighed and began to buckle on her weapons belts and cloak once more. Despite all their hopes and wishes and attempts at healing, nothing could save the young prince now.

After a few minutes, it seemed that they were not going to emerge from the infirmary very quickly. Knowing that her horse would be all but demanding her attention, she started down the hall with her head hung slightly in consternation. Where would she be in the day to come? As much as she wanted to defend her home, was her place going to be at Éomer's side through this? Wars were fought just as much at home as they were abroad.

"Charlie!"

She whirled around at the sound of her name to see Éomer and Éowyn standing outside Théodred's door. Noticing the shield maiden's curious expression, it was clearly time for some reintroductions. With her head held high, she tried to come off as nonchalant as possible as she proceeded towards them.

"My brother tells me you tended to Théodred's wounds." Éowyn looked at her with a grateful smile. There was a flicker of recognition in her grey eyes.

Her dark gaze went to Éomer, who showed little emotion but concern for his cousin as he looked back at her. It seemed that he remembered her warning when she had first met his men. She gave him the slightest of smiles in thanks. "I did, my lady."

"We're grateful that you were there to aid him."

"Lord Éomer!" There was a Rider standing at the end of the hall, his helm cradled in his arm. He had a certain air of agitation about him that told them something had happened and he was doing his best to not let it show. A few sticks of straw clung to his boots and cloak that made them guess it had to do with the horses. Firefoot was known to be mischievous with everyone, including Éomer, and had undoubtedly stirred up some trouble.

Éomer looked over Charlie's head to nod at him curtly. His gaze returned to the two women. "Meet me in the hall in a few minutes." In passing, he let his hand graze Charlie's shoulder as if to tell her that he wished for her to also be present. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds as he left and she knew her place was with him.

Éowyn touched her arm gently to get her attention. "What is your name?"

"Charlie." Her gaze returned to the young lady curiously. It burned in her to just spill the truth, for someone other than Éomer to know and be able to speak with openly.

Éowyn looked a bit puzzled by her name. It went unsaid that she looked like a woman of Rohan but spoke with a strange accent and bore an equally un-Rohirric name. "Forgive me, but you look like a girl I once knew. She was one of Éomer's dearest friends until she disappeared. It's strange that you turn up with my brother."

Her heart nearly stopped. This was her chance. If she did not speak now, it was hard to say when a proper opportunity would arise again. "My lady, may I confess something?"

"Of course. Your secrets are safe with me." The shield maiden gave her a reassuring smile, the melancholy of her musings over the lost friend and the wounded Théodred fading from her expression.

A faint smile played at her lips. "I am the girl you speak of. I'm Merides."

Éowyn stared at her in shock, utterly speechless for several seconds. The other woman swore for a moment that she had stunned the lady into a possible fainting spell. "B-but how? How did you survive?"

"I fell into another world." She held up a hand to stop her from starting in on her with a barrage of questions. "Don't ask me to explain, since even I don't understand it myself. My best guess has been some sort of old magic or the intervention of the gods, since I've never heard of the wizards being capable of such magic. Éomer ended up there too, and that's how he found me. It seems fate has given me a second chance at that dream of being a Rider like my father."

"It _is_ you," she said with a wide grin. Only Merides would have known that dream and been so headstrong as to continue pursuing it after so many years. Without a moment of hesitation, she threw her arms around her oldest friend. She gave a little laugh of disbelief as she held her close. "I always hoped you would return to us."

Charlie chuckled as they finally held each other at arm's length. "Well, I'm back. And you can't tell anyone who I am. I know the mention of Saruman and magic are not well received around here currently."

"Oh, of course." If she had truly been a servant of the wizard or worse, her brother would have never brought her back to Edoras since he was as keen as she in detecting the truth in people. No, she did not speak with a tongue that twisted one up in a trap, nor have the foul air about her that always preceded Grima Wormtongue. She was…well, she was Merides in every way, with her quick wit and easygoing yet bold demeanor. "After we speak with the king, we must talk further."

"I must see to my horse, but we certainly need to do a bit of catching up as soon as she is taken care of."

Éowyn smiled as she recognized the true spirit of the Rohirrim in her. The horses always seemed to take precedence over most anything, no matter how important the task. "I'll help you with her. I saw her giving Stapa some trouble when one of the men came to tell me about Théodred. She and Firefoot seem to be cut of similar cloth."

Charlie could vaguely remember the little colt that liked to pick up buckets only to dump their contents and was not surprised to learn that he had not changed in the slightest. Bridget was also keen on such trouble but never did it so long as she was around to swat her on the nose for her misdeeds. Despite all the grim feelings around the city and the trouble that lay ahead, it was hard not to smile. She had her horse, Éowyn, and Éomer, and she could ask for little more now that she was home. With that slight smile, she strode alongside the shield maiden towards the main hall and was not afraid to face whatever was in store for her.


End file.
